#their grades may be the teacher's fault(?) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

singmyaubade · 1 year ago

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bad girls do it the best

james potter x female!reader

warning: mentions of smut.

summary: everyone secretly likes a bad girl, even the golden boy.

a/n: i wrote this in a hurry without proofreading so yay! I'm sorry if this is cringe, i just thought of it.

James hurried through to detention; he was five minutes late. He had forgotten that he had gotten in trouble for setting off a firework in the middle of OWL'S.

It wasn't even his fault; somehow, the firework ended up in the classroom; it's not like he placed it.

Of course, that was a lie, but he was the only one who got in trouble, not Sirius or Peter. Remus didn't have any part in it because he takes his studies "seriously," It still wasn't fair.

He entered the classroom immediately; there was only him and a group of Slytherin girls, you included. He hated to admit it, but you scared him.

It's not like you were violent.

Well, that was untrue.

You had beaten a girl in your house for sleeping with your ex-boyfriend. It was one of the most notorious things James had seen throughout his years.

James remembered envying the ex-boyfriend because you were one of the hottest girls in his year, and you knew it. Even with the way you sat in front of him, ass on the desk with your legs crossed and a smirk on your face.

You might've been "bad," but you still got good grades and were one the best witches in your year. You never made fun of good people and only made fun of people who did it to others.

You only disrespected a professor if they disrespected you first.

And you never believed in blood supremacy or house, and your family was well known for not being with the Dark Lord.

So why couldn't James talk to you?

"What's up with the stare, Potter?" One of your friends had said, James almost shitting his pants.

"There is n-no stare," James stuttered, causing the girls to laugh.

"Do you have a fucking problem?" Another girl asked, "You think you're allowed to stare at Y/n?" She threatened, cracking her knuckles.

James had never had a girl scare him so bad. He had never wished for a teacher to appear so fast.

You waved your hand to your friend to stop her actions, "Aw, don't scare the puppy," You snickered. Your friend immediately sat back down.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" You asked, teeth flashing in your smile.

"I got in trouble for lighting a firework in the middle of OWL's," He swallowed, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

Was it hot in here, or was he just nervous?

You tsked, "What a bad boy," You said, causing all of your friends to laugh as James did an awkward one.

"Wanna know what I did?" You asked him as he hesitated.

You raised your eyebrow as he nodded eagerly, "Y-Yes, I wanna know,"

"Well," You stood, "I got caught giving the most mindblowing blowjob to Professor Binns," You walked closer to him as he gulped. You smirked, "I'm just joking; I got caught sneaking out of the castle,"

He exhaled as your face was extremely close to his, "Did that make you nervous, Potter?" You asked, pouting.

The rest of your friends laughed as James looked like a deer in headlights.

Suddenly, you put your hand inside his pocket as he moaned surprisingly, causing snickers from your friends. You pulled out a lollipop that James had gotten from the nurse earlier.

Pulling the sucker into your mouth, it was cherry flavored.

Professor McGonagall came in at the sight of this with a sigh, "Ms. L/n, please take a seat,"

You smiled, sitting down with the sucker in your mouth as James sat down, hiding his bulge.

"As all of you know, this is your punishment and NOT a day at the Quidditch field," McGonagall looked at James, "Nor a day at Three Broomsticks," She looked at you as you blew her a kiss, "You may read or write, but I want absolutely no talking." She instructed.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Your entire friend group said in perfect unison.

McGonagall gave one stern look to your group before sighing and sitting in her chair.

James tried to not look at you but couldn't help himself. You were something he never even thought would look at him. It wasn't only confidence but your whole entire being.

Suddenly, you tilted your head to the right, and James heard the loud telephone beside McGonagall ring, causing her to put down her book.

You smirked toward your friend before McGonagall spoke, "I have to take care of something; all of you are to be on your best behavior until I come back!" She demanded, giving a stern look to all of you.

She rushed out of the room as your friends got up to guard the door.

"Thirty minutes," You said to your friend as she nodded, going outside the door.

"W-What's going on?" James asked as you approached him.

"I've always wanted to fuck the golden boy, you know that?" You said as James's face turned tomato red.

"What?" He asked, gripping his seat.

"Don't play dumb, Potter," You smiled, getting on your knees in front of his chair, "Ever since I saw you, I always wanted to taste good in you,"

He couldn't believe this was happening.

"But-" He hesitated.

You frowned, "You don't wanna fuck me?" You asked, "Do you think I'm ugly?" You played with him.

"No, no!" He almost yelled, "You're fucking gorgeous, but I don't know if this is a good idea."

"Haven't you ever just wanted to taste something bad?" You asked, palming his bulge as he closed his eyes and groaned, "I promise it tastes so good,"

He wanted you more than he ever wanted anything in his entire life.

He ran his hands through the sides of your hair, kissing you passionately as you returned it eagerly, removing his belt.

"Tell me what you want," You moaned.

"I wanna see your tits," He whispered in your neck, sucking bruises on it as you pulled your shirt over your head, your tits bouncing out.

He squeezes your boobs immediately, leaning down to suck on the bud of your nipples. You moaned, pulling down his pants with his boxers.

He was bigger than any guy you had seen in growth and length; you had no idea how he would fit inside you.

You pushed him back from your boobs, the harsh air on your nipples causing them to rise.

You sucked the tip of his cock, him groaning as you swirled your tongue around his tip, looking him in the eyes.

You could feel the wetness in your panties just by looking at his pleasure which gave you pleasure.

You took him in entirely, gagging on him as you grabbed your hair in a ponytail from getting in your mouth. You started going faster as James was finding it hard to control himself, about to come in your mouth.

"I'm gonna- fuck," James warned before cumming in your mouth as you swallowed it like a champ.

He had gotten hard again that very second.

You smirked, swallowing the rest, "Open your mouth," James said as you obeyed, sticking your tongue out as he spit in your mouth as you swallowed it.

"You wanna fuck me?" You grinned, standing up.

James couldn't believe you were real, "I wanna taste you," He said as if in a trance.

You giggled, "We don't have enough time,"

"I don't care," He grunted, kissing you deeply as he laid your back on the desk and ground into you.

He ripped off your panties as you gasped into his mouth before he laid kisses down your breasts to your cunt, feasting.

You moaned loudly as he sucked on your clit, causing you to almost scream.

He shoved his tongue inside you, making you put your hand on your mouth as he looked up at you.

He lifted off your cunt, "Don't cover your mouth; I wanna hear you slut," He demanded

You had no idea James Potter was capable of having a dirty mouth.

You did as he said, trying to control your sounds to not let anyone hear. He was attacking your cunt like no one had ever done, girl or boy.

He genuinely enjoyed this as he stroked himself while eating you out.

Once he saw you were close, he put a finger inside you, causing you to go overstimulated.

You came there, and then as your release was all over his mouth. He rose off your cunt, kissing you on the mouth, "Taste yourself," He breathly said, putting his finger in your mouth.

You sucked on his finger, doing as he asked. He gave you one last kiss before you both heard two knocks on the door.

That was the signal that McGonagall was coming.

You and he put your clothes on quickly as you moved back to your side, sitting down before your friends and McGonagall entered the classroom.

You could hear McGonagall berating your friends for being outside before she rushed in and looked at you and James.

You both tried your best to be completely normal, and it was fooling McGonagall.

"Glad to know at least two students followed my tasks!" She said as all your friends sat down, and you smiled at James.

An hour passed before McGonagall let you all go as you slipped in a note in James's pocket with a kiss on his cheek.

Meet me in my dorm after Potions tomorrow.

And James had never felt so lucky in his entire life.

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taeyongdoyoung · 8 months ago

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end of beginning

summary: your perfectionist self can't settle and wants to improve your grades. no matter the cost... pairing: johnny x reader genre: smut warnings: professor/student dynamic, age gap (unspecified), dubcon, power play, neck-kissing, biting, spanking, fingering, slight dumbification, size kink (duh), unprotected sex, creampie, forbidden relationship, pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart) word count: 1.5k

You have never felt so foolish as you do now, standing outside of your professor’s cabinet, waiting for his office hours to start. This isn’t like you at all. You are usually at the top of each class, amazing students and teachers alike with your well-written assignments and outstanding participation in the discussions. You are usually the one that professors praise.

To say you feel embarrassed would be an understatement. You are not used to this, asking for help, admitting that you are falling behind, that your grades have never been worse. But if you want to graduate successfully, you have to swallow your pride and face the problem head on.

You don’t know what it is about Professor Suh’s lectures but you just can’t seem to focus. You try to take detailed notes as you do in your other classes, but you end up getting so lost in his beautiful voice, staring at his pretty face and thinking about his big hands as they flick through the pages that your notes end up being messy, incoherent and awfully inaccurate.

You have tried different strategies such as asking other students for their notes but nothing seems to work. So, in your desperation, you end up here, waiting for Professor Suh to put you out of your misery. You hope that no one else shows up during office hours ‘cause it would be too mortifying if other students find out and start making fun of you for being so behind on the material.

“Oh, Y/N!” Professor Suh exclaims in surprise as he unlocks the door to his cabinet, letting you in. “How long have you been waiting? Usually no one comes to these office hours so I’m a bit late. You should have emailed me.”

You stand nervously, your fingers digging into the tender skin of your already sweaty palms.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” you start to explain.

“No, you don’t have to apologize, it’s just unusual. Take a seat, make yourself comfortable,” he tries to reassure you in his calming voice.

You take off your bag, putting it on the ground and sit in the chair against his. God, you feel so stupid…

“So, what brings you here?” Professor Suh asks.

“You’ve probably noticed but my grades have been plummeting,” you murmur awkwardly.

“Well, if that’s what you call a couple of B’s, then sure, I guess,” he laughs softly.

“You don’t understand…I know other students may be happy with such grades but this is unusual for me.”

Professor Suh looks at you over his glasses in disbelief.

“You do realize that in real life nobody cares about grades, yes?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time,” you reach to grab your bag but he stops you.

“I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to help you.”

You exhale in relief.

“What is troubling you the most? Is it the material?”

“I don’t know…It doesn’t make sense because I love literature, it’s always come easy to me. I just have a hard time focusing during your lectures, for some reason.”

“Must be my fault, then,” Professor Suh smiles knowingly. “My teaching method isn’t engaging enough.”

“N-no, that’s not what I m-meant,” you stammer nervously. “I’m just…easily distracted, I guess.”

“Oh? Are you like that in your other classes, as well?”

“Not really, no,” you admit, feeling even more embarrassed.

“See? Then I guess I need to improve. Find a way to help you focus,” Professor Suh insists.

“Please help me. I really don’t want to fail your class, it’s very important to me.”

“Is it important to you because you care about your grades or because you don’t want to let me down?” Professor Suh asks staring into your eyes.

The question is so direct that it takes you off guard. You want to look away but you are so captivated you don’t dare to blink.

“I…don’t want to disappoint you, Professor Suh,” you confess. “Your lectures are very engaging and I enjoy listening to them.”

“Do you enjoy the content or the sound of my voice?”

“Professor…” you break eye contact and you are far too gone to think clearly. What is this man doing to you?

Suddenly, he stands up in all his glory, walks to your chair and lifts your chin up with his finger.

“Answer the question.”

“What…what was the question again?” you ask dumbly.

He shakes his head in disapproval.

“Just as I feared. Helping you focus would be quite difficult.”

“I’m s-sorry, I’ll try harder.”

“You better.”

Grabbing a book from his desk, he opens it and puts it in front of you.

“Read. Out loud. Don’t stop unless I tell you to, understood?”

You nod eagerly and start reading.

“We like to think of the old-fashioned American classics as children’s books. Just childishness, on our part.”

Professor Suh starts playing with your hair gently, surprising you but you don’t dare to stop and continue reading to the best of your abilities.

“The world fears the new experience more than it fears anything.”

He is kissing your neck, biting even, eliciting soft moans out of you. How is that going to help you focus?! You feel like your brain is no longer working.

“Keep reading,” he reminds you.

“Cutting away the old emotions and consciousness. Don’t ask what is left.”

Professor Suh makes you stand up and then pushes you down abruptly so that your breasts and tummy are lying on the desk and your ass is up in the air.

“And you can please yourself, when you read the Scarlet Letter, whether you accept what that sugary, blue-eyed little darling of a Hawthorne has to say for himself-” you continue to read, voice shaky and lacking any confidence.

He lifts your skirt up, touching you in all the right places in all the wrong ways. You are so terrified of what is happening but you are even more terrified of stopping to read.

Professor Suh spanks your ass harshly the second you pause briefly.

“N-no, it h-hurts,” you cry out.

“Read,” he orders you and you have no choice but to obey.

“They didn’t come for freedom. Or if they did, they sadly went back on themselves.”

Professor Suh takes your panties off and slides his fingers inside your pussy easily, as you are embarrassingly wet. He assaults you vigorously, expecting you to keep reading.

“They came largerly to get away. In the long run, away from themselves.”

“You skipped a few sentences.”

Damnit, how did he catch that?

You go back to the parts you missed but your reading continues to be full of mistakes. Eventually, Professor Suh grows tired of that and takes the book away from you.

“I’m not sure this method is helpful,” he sighs and starts unbuckling his belt. “Might have to find another way for you to acquire knowledge.”

“S-sir?” your voice trembles, though you already anticipate what is coming.

“Stuff you full of it,” he explains calmly and enters you from behind.

You want to scream but you are so afraid of someone hearing that you bite your hand.

Professor Suh seems to notice your concerns, moves your hand away and presses his own against your mouth.

“Shhh, it’s okay, angel, I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers gently while doing the opposite of what he’s saying.

He is so big that you feel as if he’s splitting you in half. Miraculously, you are still alive.

“You’re not good at focusing in my lectures anyway so I might as well give you something to remember during them,” he laughs. Oh, he’s so mean. You deserve it, though. For being so greedy. Not satisfied with a B. Stupid girl.

He removes his hand from your lips, trusting you not to make any loud noises.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Why ask now? He’s already gone this far…

“N-no, p-please,” you whimper helplessly.

“No as in stop or no as in keep going?”

You genuinely don’t know what the right answer is. If this is a test, then you’re surely failing.

Apparently, Professor Suh does not care what you have to say. Perhaps it’s your fault for being so slow…He keeps fucking you, going deeper inside of you than any man has ever been. Soon enough, he paints your walls white as if he’s an artist and not a literature professor.

You feel so dizzy, so brainless, so silly.

“Are you alive?” he asks, scooping you up into his big arms.

“N-no?” your response comes out with a questioning tone.

“Take all the time you need to recover,” he tells you thoughtfully.

“Can I ask you something, Professor Suh?”

“You should call me Johnny when we’re alone.”

“Oh, um…Johnny, what if someone had walked in?” you ask fearfully.

“Relax, sweetheart, I locked the door,” he laughs gently.

“Ah, that’s good.”

“Anything else you’re worried about?” Johnny plays with your breasts lazily as you sit in his lap.

“Um, yeah…”

“I’ll write you all A’s from now on if that’s what…”

“I don’t care about that anymore,” you confess teary-eyed. “Was this a one time thing for you, Johnny? Will I have to pretend nothing happened during your lectures?”

He caresses your hair just like how he did when this all started. For some reason, it doesn’t feel like the end.

“Oh, baby, this is just the beginning.”

The End

#nct smut #johnny suh smut #johnny x reader #nct #johnny #johnny smut #nct 127 smut #johnny suh x reader #nct johnny smut #nct imagines #johnny imagines #nct hard hours #nct scenarios #nct reader smut #writing

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cameronspecial · 1 year ago

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Let Me Handle It, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Blackmailing, Being Sick, Threatening to Kill Someone, Mentions of An Affair

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

Summary: Y/N stresses about not being able to take a test after missing it because she is sick, but good thing Rafe is here to help.

Masterlist

He can hear tiny sniffles coming from inside of his room. He opens the door to see the wet globs coming from her eyes and the tiny shrivel of her nose confirms his assumption that she is crying. Her hand tugs at the opposite sleeve of his oversized hoodie that she wears. As soon as their eyes lock, he rushes to sit on the bed and pulls her onto his lap. “What’s wrong, my sweet angel?” he coos, unsticking her hair from the wet trail on her face it attached itself to so that he can look into her eyes. She takes a second to steady her breathing, “Y-you kn-know how I had that test today, but I’ve been puking all week so I couldn’t go?” He nods his head for her to continue. “Well, I emailed my professor at the beginning of the week asking if I could do it another day. He said that I would need to show him a doctor's note before the end of the day for that to happen. I tried telling him that I tried everything all week to get one, but my doctor doesn’t have a free appointment, the clinic can’t give me one because they aren’t my regular doctor and the hospital won’t even see me. So, now, I’m going to lose 20% of my mark because I was sick.”

Rafe listens carefully to her little rant, growing angry at each hoop his sick girlfriend had to go through just to get something as trivial as a redo test. She had been studying every chance she could get, even through her sickness. Rafe knows how serious Y/N is about her grades and school. After all, she needs some great grades to get into grad school. He would never think twice about losing 20% of his grade because all he wants to do is pass the class, which is perfectly doable without that. However, Y/N, especially with her anxiety, needs every percent she can get and Rafe wasn’t going to let some old shit with a stick up his ass stop her from doing so. “It’s going to be okay. Let me handle it, angel,” he assures, kissing her temple.

——

The line to the professor’s office is three people deep. All of them are waiting to enter for his office hours, but Rafe is not going to take the chance of not talking to him. He stares down the first guy in line and walks to the front of the line. From the guy’s smell, he must be an engineering major. No one says anything about Rafe’s actions because he has a well-known reputation on campus. The door opens to the office and Rafe doesn’t wait for the student inside to walk out. The wrinkles on the professor’s forehead crate a v, a frown falling onto his face. “I don’t believe you are in any of my classes,” he states, trying to pinpoint if he has seen Rafe in any of his lectures. Rafe shakes his head in a low chuckle, “No, I am not, Professor Smith. But my girlfriend is. You may remember her from the email you sent her, Y/N Y/L/N.” “Ah, yes. I do remember her. Unless you have the doctor's notes or are a doctor, then I am afraid I can’t do anything. It’s not my fault she didn’t plan accordingly,” Smith comments, not looking up from his laptop.

Rafe closes the teacher’s laptop. This causes the man to look at him and he gives him a threatening smile. “I’m sorry to say that I don’t have any notes. But my angel won’t be needing one,” he sings, running his finger along the desk. The elder’s head tilts, “Really? And why would that be?” Rafe’s grin turns almost psychotic.

“Because I know a little secret about where you like to spend your Sunday nights. I have a lot of photographic evidence that I’m sure the university and your wife would love.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Let’s not play this game. My frat brother also likes to visit the little lady you like to have a dalliance with and he told me everything she told him. If that doesn’t convince you, then maybe the piece in my nightstand drawer will.”

The bob of the professor’s Adam’s apple is very evident, “Are you trying to blackmail me?”

“Nice to see you finally caught up on what is going on. Now, are you going to do what I asked?”

Smith looks at Rafe with wide eyes and the points of his lips stretch. He can see the seriousness on Rafe’s face. His head gives a small nod, “Y-yes. I think I can do something for Ms. Y/L/N.” “That’s great. Let’s type her a nice apologetic email. And if you even think about telling anyone about this, then you might just find yourself six feet under,” Rafe intimidates, reopening the laptop for the professor.

——

Wind passes through her hair as she makes her way towards Rafe. Her smile rivals the sun and she jumps into his arms. Her legs wrap around his waist. He grips the back of her thighs to keep her up. “What has you so happy, my angel? Only I’m allowed to do that,” Rafe complains, peppering kisses all over her face. She giggles at the assault of his lips, “Professor Smith let me redo the test without a doctor’s note. I got a 100%.” Rafe lets out a cheer, spinning her around. “That’s so great! You work so hard. I’m so proud of you, angel,” he praises. She gives her his thanks as she tells him in detail about her test, talking about how she figured out a question she got a little stuck on. He nods and listens, spotting the professor out of the corner of his eye. Professor Smith becomes frightened and he quickly looks away from Rafe. He smirks at the professor’s reaction, returning his full gaze to his girl.

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bluee08 · 2 years ago

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Astro observations 《3》

Disclaimer : Not an astrologer, take it with a grain of salt, only for fun.

🫧 Asteroid Orma in 8th house might be the people to leave an impression of being hella reserved in a mysterious way. Like they might tell you a story and you will always feel like there is something more to it.

🪩 Mars in 3rd house people often say something offending without meaning to and regret the very next second. Trust me it's not their fault, they wanted to say something else and ended up saying something totally unexpected. They also feel guilty about it for days and feel sad that they might have come off rude for no reason.

🫧 Neptune conjuct ascendant, they are the real chameleons. They can mold themselves as per the situation demands. Ngl it comes handy sometimes. Like I remember when I was in 6th grade I was caught into a very serious matter but I pretended as if nothing happened and flew away. When the other guys rattled me out to the teacher, she said It's impossible that I was involved and that she doesn't believe them. She didn't hear a single word against me. Lol no, I wasn't her favorite student or something. It's just that I had maintained a certain reputation among different sect of people as per my own convenience. Call it manipulation if you want, if that doesn't explain the planet itself.

🪩 Pluto trine Lilith, it's not always sexuality that comes to the mind when we hear about these folk. Lilith here is aware that pluto is her benefactor. But it takes time for her to feel comfortable in her own domain. She is powerful here and knows what she wants. Definitely won't take anyone's bullshit. Her transformation can be scary and ruthless if someone tries to pin her down.

🫧 Jupiter sextile Pluto have a deep interest in forbidden things. Learning things that often people consider taboo is their thrill. They may or may not share the knowledge but they are always resourceful about topics relatated to dark themes of life. Feel free to discuss anything with them, they won't judge you infact they will help you inhance your own boundaries. You will be surprised how normal they'll sound while talking about things that might trigger other people even if they have gone through the same.

🪩 The one guy I had a Aphrodite-Eros synastry with made me feel like...idk strange. I was on a constant pedestal. I cared a lot about him. His Eros conjucted my Aphrodite and I looked out for him a lot. There was a thick sexual tension but also comfort. He also made me get a taste of jealousy. Which I don't usually feel. I used to constantly compare myself with the girls he used to interact with. We were not dating but I just couldn't help but feel insecure. Not because of him....idk why I was acting like that when I knew I was pretty enough.

🫧 Mars opposite Venus people get sudden mood swings from doing absolutely nothing to doing everything in next one hour. Oh and they'll do it again if it ain't asthetically pleasing to the eye.

🪩 Sun sextile Saturn, trust me they do know how to control themselves and take things with a grain of salt. Their ego is well maintained and not fragile unlike others. Very understanding and real mature people.

🫧 Sun sextile/trine Moon are the most compassionate and intuned with their selves. They know themselves better than anyone else. Also they always know exactly what they are feeling at any given time. Even if they are depressed at some point they won't give up easily.

🪩 Neptune negatively aspecting Saturn, dreaming big is easy, isn't it? But when you start implanting those dreams in real life your dreams remain dreams only. Don't worry though. It's a lesson. Don't give up, try harder. Dream as big as you want but at the end of the day remember to open your eyes and start afresh with new motivation. And please don't listen to those who tell you to quit it down. Your dreams are not weird or impossible or too much. Those people are just jealous because of how big your ambitions are and how far you are willing to go for it. Don't restrict your imagination for someone else. Believe yourself, you can do it!

🫧 Pluto in 10th house solar return chart can indicate a huge change in academic life or anywhere you are working at. For better or worse you better take precautions before hand. I am having it this year with mars in 3rd house and trust me from an above average student my grades are becoming poor. If I were to describe my graph I can see it coming downhill like a water slide which is creating quite an impression on my parents as well as my teachers. Note the sarcasm.

🪩 Saturn in 7th house could indicate having no interest in relationships at first or people being afraid to ask you out but when you grow up, settle well, you find yourself looking for your better half, resulting in either meeting them late or doing an arrange marriage.

🫧 Saturn opposite ascendant are the people who often get told that they look unapproachable on first glance. Kind of the 'out of league' vibe surrounds them. Which is not always true but I have noticed people do think twice before approaching them. These sweeties are also damn soft on the inside but for only those who do dare to talk to them. They rarely take the initiative themselves. But come ask help from them and they will risk their lives for you.

🪩 Mercury aspecting chiron could indicate healing your wounds by diving into the world of books. You might like to read or write journals when you are feeling down. There might be a small diary or pages that you have written when you were at your lowest. Its also possible that you start writing a novel or something to help you voice out your pain through written words.

🫧 Sun conjuct asteroid Medusa. Damn! You could have curly hair or hairs that are a lot wavy, thick and voluminated. Highly blessed in hair department. Many people might have praised you or complimented on your hair from a very young age. This could also indiacte a lot of body hair. From top to bottom you have body hair and trust me its not a bad thing. Its a blessing of being powerful, embrace it. It's just a hunch but some may have complimented you on that too.

🪩 Mars in 3rd house can't watch porn without audio or no communication during the deed. They always want to hear the sounds, no, they NeeD to hear the sounds raw! Only visuals is boring for them just as adding some weird music to the video. No, its not creating the mood, its ruining my experience, pls stop it.

🫧 You don't wanna hear someone moan who has their personal planets conjucting asteroid Sirene. Trust me you will get addicted. Its insane and I am not bluffing. Their voice may or may not be as addictive in general but in bed? Or when they want to take something from you? You will be trapped even before you blink. It's dangerous.

🪩 What's with Taurus Mars and Laziness? So much potential and still they study few hours before exam, complete assignments few minutes before submission and still have the audacity to say they will easily pass. Like bro if that's how you pass then I can't imagine how you will top....

🫧 Moon in 4th house people are highly invested in family matters. Family comes first to them and then the rest. The kind of people to tolerate an unhappy married life for the sake of their kids because they can't see their family being split apart.

🪩 Mars aspecting Pluto. It doesn't matter if it is positively aspected or negatively aspected, there is a lot of pent up frustration and anger issues underneath this placement. If provoked or underdeveloped could result in a very sudden and violent rage from this person. Better to leave them alone in such situations.

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ladykailitha · 7 months ago

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Paper Hearts Part 5

I have no restraint. I have NO restraint. I HAVE NO RESTRAINT!!! So guess who starting writing a SEQUEL to this because she was feeling too sad to write Sweet Home Indiana? Yup! I would apologize, but this story is too cute for words.

We have a mild panic attack about the ending of the chapter from Steve, Eddie's plan, and Steve accepting an offer that made mostly in jest, but also in deep earnest.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

TAG LIST IS CLOSED!!!

But if the people on my list that haven't interacted on my stuff lately don't reply by Sunday slots may open up. So don't despair just yet if you want to be on the list and can't.

****

Steve banged his head on his locker in frustration. Why did he do that? Why did he tell Eddie he was interested in boys, too? Why did he trust the other boy to have his back? Especially when no one else seemed to.

He sighed.

He wrenched open his locker and a little pink heart fluttered to the floor. He frowned as he picked it up.

They weren’t going to hand out the hearts until Valentine’s Day so what was this then?

-Stevie

I like the way you’re kind even when it doesn’t benefit you.

Kas

Steve blinked down at the little heart in confusion. It wasn’t the exactly the same color as the hearts they were going to give out for the holiday. But it was close. He rubbed his thumb over the sender’s name.

Kas.

He knew it wasn’t a real name, having recently poured over the yearbook. So it had to be a reference to something, but what he didn’t know. He stuck it in his jacket pocket and grabbed what he needed for his next class, vowing to worry about it later.

As he sat in his chemistry class waiting for it to start he pulled it out of his pocket to look at it again. The pen was red ink and bold. Steve found himself smiling at the strange little pink heart.

Suddenly it was ripped out of his hand.

His head snapped up to see Tommy H. standing there with it in his hand. “Someone is sending Harrington Valentine’s hearts?”

“Give it back, Tommy,” Steve growled. “It’s none of your business. Not anymore.”

Tommy looked him in the eye before tossing it to the ground and walking off. “Whatever.”

Steve bent over to pick it up.

“Some girl named Kassy or whatever,” Tommy was telling Nicole. “Could be anyone from the younger grades.”

“I suppose so,” she said, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “But anyone with sense would know he’s the plague now.”

Tina rolled her eyes. “Just because he refuses to suck either of you two off doesn’t mean he’s still not the hottest guy in school.”

Tommy rounded on her and called her a bitch.

She just scoffed and swung back around just as the teacher walked into the room. The tardy bell rang and he called the class to order, effectively squashing all gossip.

Steve ducked his head to hide his smile. He might feel a bit bitter that it was her party that Nancy threw their relationship in his face at, but it wasn’t her fault his girlfriend had gotten so pissed drunk that she lost her ironclad control. And right now he was feeling especially grateful to her for that comment.

He managed to get through his class just from riding that high alone.

His last class was algebra and it really should have been made illegal by now. The way the numbers and letters seemed to float off of the page as he struggled to parse their meaning. He just had to pass one quarter of this shit and he could graduate.

So he put his head down to learn and just suffer through it.

After school, he got to his locker and knelt down to open it.

Again a pink heart fluttered out of it. But this time it had a couple of friends. Steve stuck them in his jacket pocket again and exchanged books. He grabbed his English and history homework so that he could get them done for tomorrow.

He opened the back door of his car and threw in his backpack. He went to open his door when Eddie was suddenly at his side.

He leaned up against the door, preventing Steve from opening it.

“So the king swings for both teams?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Steve looked around, but they were alone for the most part, so he just shrugged. “Some guys are hot and for some reason I can’t fathom, I trust you not have it all over the school by lunch tomorrow.”

Eddie chuckled and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I wouldn’t do that to ya.”

“Yeah and why would that be?” Steve asked turning around and sticking his hands in his front pockets.

“That would be because it would be hypocritical of me to go spreading around the school someone likes guys,” he said, bumping their shoulders together.

Steve looked at him for a long time before he nodded. “You know by now I don’t put much stock into rumors. I did that once and got my shit rocked for it. Lesson learned, man.”

“I heard about the infamous Byers left hook,” Eddie agreed. “That was some pretty major shit rocking.”

The jock rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure he was my first concussion.”

The older boy looked up at the sky as he thought about it and then nodded. “Billy Hargrove would be round two, I’m assuming?”

Steve nodded and then threw his head back. “This year has gone from bad to worse and I’m barely keeping my head above water.”

Eddie hummed his agreement. It really has seemed like Steve couldn’t catch a break. “I feel that. I’m really struggling this year. Last year I didn’t graduate because I so focused on getting out of here, making it with my music that I forgot the promise I made to my mom that I would. Graduate I mean. But this year is just hell.”

“That sucks, Eds,” he agreed.

“You think you’re going to graduate?”

“God, I hope so,” Steve murmured, collapsing against the side of his car. “I just want to get out of this town.”

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. “Where would you even go, man?”

“I’d pick a direction and just drive for as long as I could,” he admitted softly. “I just need to be as far away from this place as I can.”

The metalhead nodded. “If we both graduate we should hop into my van and just run for the coast.”

Steve smiled fondly. “I think I’d like that.”

Eddie pushed himself off the car and then waved Steve goodbye.

The younger boy got into his car with a sigh of relief. Not only did Eddie promise not to out him, he came out to Steve, too. Now it was mutually assured destruction.

Steve smiled and started the car for home. Maybe this year was starting to get a little better.

****

Eddie shoved his hands in his back pockets as he made his way to his van. He didn’t know what possessed him to ask Steve to runaway with him or what possessed Steve to agree but it left a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest.

He hauled himself into the van and sat there for a moment just thinking about it. Of course that meant graduating himself, so he would have to focus on that. His van roared to life and he drove off.

It took him a couple of tries but he finally found the construction paper he needed. He had even found some black construction paper that he was going to use to make little paper bats to tape on the inside of his locker to make it less miserable.

Especially as he was told he couldn’t have his metal band posters up in there. They were too “evil” and “Satanic” and he should be more “Christ like” as if they were epitome of Christian virtue with all the hate they had for anyone not like them.

But Eddie got down to work and started making as many pink hearts as he could. He had thought briefly about adding a couple of red hearts in the mix, but he thought that was a step too far. He didn’t want to get Steve’s hopes up that he had multiple crushes on him if that wasn’t true.

He still planned on giving Steve his one red heart that he had bought. That wasn’t in question. He had already filled it out and returned it to the great big baskets that had been in the main hall.

It simply read:

Stevie,

You make being in this town worth living in,

Love,

Kas

He let out a slow shuddering breath. That was one of the scariest things he had to do since choosing to live with an uncle he had only met twice his entire life over being in the system. He knew his life was infinitely greater being with Uncle Wayne and he hoped this would yield a similar result.

Because he had made a promise and with all signs pointing toward Steve at least being receptive to a date, he had to shoot his shot and hope for the best.

He had made roughly fifty or so of the pink hearts and set about dividing them into four piles. With Jeff, Gareth, and Brian offering to help with the friendship hearts he wanted to make sure everyone got a few of them. Plus it made it easier to come up with things. Because even if they came up with similar ideas, they at least would be phrased slightly different so Steve wouldn’t figure it out.

He also had the idea of using pseudonyms so that it wasn’t all anonymous and initials, though there would some of those too.

But it was time for band practice, so he gathered up his things and the hearts and trotted off to his van, a wave and goodbye to Wayne on his way out.

****

Steve finally opened the other three hearts. Two were anonymous but the third surprisingly was from Tina.

It read it in the tiniest print that was still legible:

Steve,

I know we’re supposed to turn these in or whatever,

But I just wanted to say you’re still A-OK in my book.

-Tina

He blushed. That was nice of her and after she stuck up for him in chemistry, he was feeling a little better about himself.

The other two were just as sweet if a tad unusual in their delivery. The first one said:

Steve,

I’m sorry you lost your crown,

you kept the bullies from being their worst selves.

And the other read:

Steve,

You are a good dude.

Sorry people are shit right now.

Steve shook his head. They were well-tended, he had no doubt but they were odd. Like they were trying to find something nice to say and didn’t know how to word it.

Which, fair.

He knew he had a hard time coming up with complements for the twenty girls he’d picked out for his little project. He had to make sure the message wasn’t creepy or would come across as stalker-y.

He smiled down at the messages. He pulled out a little notebook that he had used to collect all the little things that the kids had given him over the past couple years and put the hearts on their own little page. He carefully put the book back, hidden between two textbooks from his freshman year.

“Steven!” his mom called. “We’re home!”

“Coming, Mom!” he cried, hurrying down the stairs.

****

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List: Closed

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #post season 2 #valentine's fic

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skzimagines · 5 months ago

Text

"Teachers pet."

Minors DNI 18+

"Okay class, that's it for today. If you could bring me those papers by next week, it would help your guy's grading score a lot!" Professor Chan's voice booms through the class as everyone begins to pack their things into their bags.

"Next week? Is he crazy, we'll never get it done by then!" My friend Cam says from beside me. I fold up my laptop and shove it into my bag, chuckling at her comment. "I can always help you, maybe we'll get it done sooner that way." I say, throwing my bag over my shoulder.

"Yeah, that's easier for you to say.... teachers pet." She says with a smirk. My face turns red as I turn to look at Chan. He's currently going through papers on his desk. As if he can feel my stare, he looks up. His eyes meet mine and he gives me a small smile before going back to his work. "I'm not the teacher's pet... You just get along better with them when you actually do your work." I jokingly say... kinda. "Oh I'm sure you're doing work for him." She spits back with a wink. I let out a groan which causes her to laugh, then swing my bag over my shoulder. "You ready?" We head out the door but before I can make it out all of the way Professor Chan calls my name. "Ms. Y/n, can I speak to you for a second?" I stop in my tracks and look at Cam. "Have fun... teacher's pet." She laughs and jogs up to the rest of our friends.

I make my way back into the class, standing in front of his desk. "Is everything okay?" I ask. My hands start sweating as I fold them together in front of me and play with the ring on my finger nervously. It's no lie that this man is beyond attractive, and I may or may not have had a tiny crush on him since last year. But, pushing feelings aside because everyone knows, sleeping with a teacher, probably isn't something you should try to be adding to your resume.

"Yes, I'm just looking through my papers here and I don't seem to have your last report." He states, looking up at me from the stack of papers he has on his desk. I look at him confused, because I know I sat my work on his desk as soon as I walked into class last week.

"I for sure thought I sat them on your desk last week." I say quietly. "Well, I have looked everywhere and I can't seem to find them. They might have gotten lost?" He says, more as a question though. "I can give them to you again to redo, so you can get the points for them, but I'm afraid I'll have to fail you if they're not turned in by tomorrow." He states. "Tomorrow!?...Sir, it took us an entire week to do that report, there's no way I can get that done by tomorrow..." I say, concern filling my voice. He lets out a sigh before grabbing last week's report out of his desk and setting it in front of me. "Do what you can, and I'll add points for whatever you get done." He says. I let out a groan and roll my eyes, grabbing the papers off of his desk.

"I don't appreciate the attitude Ms. Y/N." He says sternly. I've never been one to talk back, especially to people who have more control than I do. I've always left that to Cam. But the fact that I'm going to fail this assignment, after working my ass off on it, sends flames through my body. "With all respect, Sir. I just don't see how it's my fault that you lost my papers. I know I sat them on your desk before class started last week." Chan stares at me, as if he's seen a ghost. After what seems like an eternity but was really only 10 seconds. He stands from his chair and walks around his desk, standing right in front of me. "Ms. Y/N, are you blaming me for your mistake?" He asks. His voice has gotten much deeper and quieter. Sexier, but I'm not going to get into all of that. "I'm sorry, Sir. but..." He cuts me off by quickly walking to me until our bodies touch and he presses me against his desk. My breath gets caught in my throat as his lips nearly touch mine.

"I said, I don't appreciate the attitude. So Y/N why is it, you keep giving it to me?" He asks, his breath fans over my lips and smells of mint and I take note of the gum that's in his mouth. I can't find any words. All I can focus on is the way his hands hold my waist and the way his lips are so close to mine, if I were to move right now, there'd be no avoiding them from touching.

"You don't have much to say now, do you?" He asks with a smirk. A small squeak leaves my lips as he pushes his knee between my legs, causing them to open and him to stand between them. "I have a small idea on how you can get those points for that assignment." He says seductively. "Sir... we shouldn't' do this. Y..you could lose y...your job." I say quietly, trying so hard not to absolutely go feral. "Oh y/n, aren't you the cutest little thing. I have you pinned up against my desk, wanting to fuck your brains out, but yet you're concerned about my job." He says with a small chuckle.

"Sir..." I start to say, but he quickly cuts me off. "You make me crazy when you call me that." He groans out, before slamming his lips onto mine. It feels like electricity jolts through my entire body. My hands instinctively reach to the back of his neck.

He steps away before turning me around and bending me over his desk. “You and these stupid skirts, always taunting me every time you come in here.” He says, lifting my skirt up to lay on my back and dragging my panties down my legs, exposing my dampend heat to him and swiftly taking out his hardened member from his black jeans.

“Gosh… perfect, just how I imagined it.” He says, before slamming himself into me. The desk moves a bit from the force of his thrust. A sharp yelp leaves my lips before he clasps his hand over my mouth.

“As much as I’d love to hear your sweet little moans, I don’t want to lose my job baby girl, couldn’t bear the fact of not seeing you every day.” He groans out. He continues to pound into me, small mumbled moans flow through his hand every time he buries himself inside of me.

I feel my stomach clench up to the feeling of my high coming closer. “I feel that pussy tightening for me, you going to cum for me?” He asks. All I can do is let out a moan as an answer, before my high reaches the peak and exploded around him. My body shakes as he continues to pound into me, bringing himself to his own.

He thrusts extra hard, pausing between every seed he pumps in to me. Letting out a grunt every time as well.

He pulls out and pulls my panties back up and fixes my skirt before pulling his pants back into place. As I stand up from his desk, my name catches my eye. I take a second look at the paper sitting in his desk…. It’s my report, my name written right on the top right side. “Wha… Chan!.” I say, pointing at the paper.

He follows the direction to which I’m pointing at and sees my paper, sitting right smack beside him. “Oh! Imagine that!” He says, picking up the paper with a smirk. “Yeah… imagine.” I say. “Is that more attitude Y/N?.” He asks, giving me the same look as earlier… before he fucked me over his desk.

I watch as he grabs a pen from inside his desk. He takes my paper and writes a big 100% right at the top. “I’ll put some extra credit on there too, sweetie.” He says before giving me a wink.

“You think I did this for a good grade?” I ask. Does he really think I’m that desperate? “That’s not the reasoning?” He asks, giving me a confused look. “No!” I say dramatically. “Why else would a smart girl like you, be fucking her teacher for.” He asks. Folding his hands together on his desk. I grimace at the comment he’s made. “Don’t make me sound like a whore…” I whisper, not having the courage to look at him. He hear his chair slide back against the wooden floor.

I suddenly feel his hand lift my head so he can look me in the eye. “Baby girl, you are anything but… don’t ever think I’d think of you in that way.” He whispers, planting a small kiss to my forehead. A light blush forms on my cheeks as his thumb rubs a circle on my cheek.

“Now… go get to your other classes, we don’t need you to fail those.” He gives me a wink, walking back to his chair. I take one more good look at him, taking in everything that’s just happened.

My heart flutters from the thought of him deep inside me. I shake my head from the thought. I grab my bag from off of the floor near his desk and throw it of my shoulder before making my way to the door.

“See you tomorrow Ms. Y/N..” he says with a smirk.

“See you tomorrow Professor Chan.”

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janeyseymour · 10 months ago

Text

Love Thy Neighbor- pt 5

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4

Summary: Melissa helps you out. It's not helping the feelings that you have for her.

WC: ~2.15k

You’ve been teaching for a few weeks at Abbott a this point now, and you are eternally grateful for this job. You get to take Ellie with you to school, you don’t have to race around to pick her up after. The staff is nice enough, and your kids are wonderful. They absolutely adore you more than anything. Receiving drawings and cards is an almost daily occurrence, and it melts your heart- your students out in Utah never did things like this.

You work closely with Melissa during your preps to make sure that your room is going well, and any questions that you have you’re able to ask her. She’s so willing to help you with both big problems (realizing that you have no teacher’s manual for the science unit that you’re set to start the next week) and the small (standing in between your classrooms when you have to use the bathroom so desperately you’re afraid you’re going to get a UTI).

( “Fuck,” you curse softly during your prep while you’re ripping every drawer and cabinet open in your room.

“What’s going on, hun?” She magically appears in your doorway. “You look frazzled, and I can hear the cabinets opening and closing over in my room.”

“Shoot, sorry,” you turn and sigh softly. “I can’t find the science manual that I’m supposed to be basing these science lessons off of.”

“That may be my fault,” the redhead admits with a smirk. “I hated it, so I burnt it and made up my own lessons. You have all the materials for what you have to get done, and I can help you out at home tonight if you bring your planner home.”

“I’ll make dinner.”

—

You’re squirming in your chair, desperate for the bathroom. But your kids are taking a test, and every time you pop your head out the door, there is no one there for you to pull into your room for a quick three minutes while you rush down the hall to relieve yourself.

Melissa appears in your door though to ask you a quick question, and she can immediately see the discomfort written into your face.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly as she makes her way over to your desk.

You shake your head. “I really have to-”

“Go,” is all she has to say for you to take off in the direction of the bathroom.

You come back a few minutes later, much more relaxed now. “Thank you. What’s up?”

“Just came to see if you needed any copies made- I’m sending Ashley to do some… woman’s driving me nuts lately.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “There’s a stack of papers there to be copied and filed if you want to send her in… and I can always come up with other ways to keep her occupied and out of your hair.”

“That would be great,” the redhead smiles at you softly. “Thanks.” )

All of these situations at school, combined with the ones at home are not helping the feelings that you have developed for the fiery redheaded second grade teacher.

At school, she’s sweet enough, but outside of school hours… it’s even worse.

You have your car now, but she still insists on carpooling with you.

( “It’s more cost efficient, and Jacob isn’t on my ass about burning too many fossil fuels now that we come in together,” she rolls her eyes.

“At least let me drive,” you sigh.

“Her booster is already in my car,” Melissa retaliates. “Just get in.” )

Ellie insists on spending time with her whenever she can, and when you think that it’s getting to be too much for Melissa, she’s waving you off and telling you that having the two of you around is the best thing that’s happened to her. She helps Ellie with homework while you’re lesson planning, she insists on making dinner at least twice a week, your little girl is on her hip at dismissal everyday and falls asleep- only for the redhead to shush everyone around her before she carries her out to the car, the two watch cartoons together and snuggle… she’s really stepped up and stepped in for your daughter when she needed some extra love and care.

And with doting on Ellie the way that she does, she’s also doting on you.

( “You eating enough?” she asks you one day when she sees that you’ve hardly touched your meal. You’re instead pouring over your kids’ essays and grading them frantically.

“I’ll eat after I finish grading these and putting them in,” you wave her off. “You and Ellie eat.”

“We already did, Momma,” your daughter says from the couch, reaching for the television remote. How’d she get there?

Before you can respond, there’s a forkful of gnocchi being held up to your mouth, and Melissa is sitting there giving you a look that says not to argue.

“Thank you,” you sigh softly as you open your mouth. She feeds you the rest of your dinner, despite your daughter begging for attention from the redhead.

Only when you’re finished eating does the woman go and pull the little girl on the couch into her lap.

You continue to grade until you have both of them standing at your side. Or, Melissa is standing at your side while Ellie is clinging to her, settled on her hip.

“Momma, you have to come tuck me,” your little girl yawns out. “Miss Mel said it’s bedtime.”

You glance up at the clock to see that it is indeed Ellie’s bedtime. Your heart melts at the thought that the redhead has so seamlessly integrated herself into your life that she not only knows your daughter’s bedtime, but is able to implement it without your daughter making a fuss over it.

The two of you get the little girl into bed and read with her before flicking off the light. You make your way back to the kitchen table to continue grading, and when you expect her to leave, she instead sits down and takes a hefty portion of the grading that you still have to do. Her glasses are on her face, and her eyes are trained on the work in front of her. She grabs one of the pens that you have sitting on the table and opens it to mark a few things.

You’re so busy watching her that you forget to continue grading yourself. She nudges you gently.

“I’m tryin’ to help you, hun,” she chuckles. “You gotta do some work though too.”

You take the graded papers are start entering them into grade book with a sigh. With the two of you working together, grades get put in rather quickly. You can’t help but grin at her sleepily as she grades the last one for you, and you enter the number.

“I think you just saved my life,” you sigh softly. You lay a gentle hand over hers and squeeze it gently.

“I think you need some sleep, hun,” she tells you gently. “Get to bed, and I’ll see myself out.”

“Or we could just hang out on the couch?” you suggest. “I like when you’re here with me… and I love when it’s me, you, and El, but having some adult time is nice.”

She chuckles but nods and leads you to the couch. She settles into the corner of it, and you slide in next to her, grabbing a blanket.

It’s warm, it’s domestic, it’s cozy. Her arm is draped around you lazily, your head nuzzled into the crook of her neck as you curl up and find a program to watch.

You doze off, and you’re not quite sure for how long because the next thing you know Ellie is climbing on top of you with tears in her eyes. Melissa is still there with you, eyes opening blearily.

“Momma,” the little girl whines and settles herself, half in your lap and half in Melissa’s. “Miss Mel.”

“What’s wrong, sweetness?” you ask her gently, teasing the little wisps at the base of her neck. You press a delicate kiss to her temple, and you see Melissa also move the arm not wrapped around you to soothingly rub your daughter’s back.

“Bad dream,” she mumbles as she lays against the two of you.

You sigh softly. “Do you want to talk about it, or try to head back off to dreamland?”

“Dreamland,” she yawns as she rubs her eyes. “But I want you and Miss Mel with me.”

At the mention of her, the redhead’s eyes widen just slightly.

“Please,” Ellie mumbles as she curls into your neighbor’s side. “Please.”

“Momma will come lay with you,” you try to placate softly. You attempt to pull her into your arms, but she desperately reaches for the woman next to you. “We won’t all fit in your bed, sweet girl,” you tell her.

“Momma’s bed,” she mumbles as she wiggles out of your hold and into Melissa’s. The redhead glances at you, and you shrug.

Knowing that if you deny Ellie right now, she will have a meltdown, and you just don’t have it in you to deal with that. You nod, praying to God that your room is clean.

“Mel can stay for a little bit,” Melissa tells the little girl in her arms. “Until you fall asleep.”

The three of you make your way to your bedroom, Ellie sandwiched between the two of you in bed. Ellie clings to the redhead as she starts to fall back asleep. Melissa hums a sweet little tune before she quietly starts to sing a lullaby in a different language. You realize that it’s Italian quickly, and her voice is so gentle and smooth- even at the soft volume. While it lulls your daughter to sleep, it also lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up again to your alarm, Ellie’s little head pops up from Melissa’s chest before flopping back down gently. If the redhead wasn’t already awake, she is now. “Oof.”

“You stayed,” Ellie whispers.

“I didn’t really have a choice when you decided to use me as your body pillow,” the woman chuckles softly.

You look over at your girl, who is in fact fully on top of Melissa the way that she usually lays on you after a nightmare.

“Oopsies,” Ellie grins. She doesn’t look sorry in the slightest. Then she jumps up. “Time to see Mrs. Howard?”

“Yeah, sweetness,” you chuckle. You love that she adores her kindergarten teacher. “After we get ready, and you have to let Miss Melissa up.”

She uses the two of you as launchpads to sprint into her bedroom, and the two of you fall back into the pillows gently. You turn your head to look at her.

“Thank you,” you say softly, a smile on your face.

“For?”

“Being here for El and me,” you sigh. “It’s made this adjustment to this new life a lot easier.”

Her eyes are so warm as they stare into your own, and she flits her gaze down to your lips.

As much as you want to kiss her right now, you know you shouldn’t. It would be unprofessional… and you have morning breath. Instead, you throw the blankets back on your side and roll out of bed.

She watches you. She’s thought you were gorgeous for quite some time now, but in the morning when you’re just you and not ‘Miss Y/N’ may be her favorite look of yours.

“Stop,” you laugh awkwardly as you feel her gaze while you try to pick out your outfit. “I look like a mess right now, and you should be getting ready for work too.”

“You’re stunning,” she tells you honestly. “But yes… I should probably head over to my apartment to get ready.” She rolls out of bed and starts to make her way out when you catch her arm gently.

“Thank you,” you say softly as you squeeze her arm.

“Of course.”

She heads for the front door, and you can hear Ellie yelling her goodbyes from her bedroom.

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” the redhead promises. “And then we’ll go to school together. I think your momma’s driving too.” The door closes after that, and as you get ready, you let your mind wander about what would change if you decided to just say fuck it and kiss her again. The two of you would probably end up together…

But really, with her across the hall and practically being a part of your family already, what more would change? Not much. But if you were to date and then split? That would be… hell.

Maybe she’s worth the risk though. You shrug in the mirror and shake your head as you try to focus on what has to be done today.

Maybe with time… only time will tell.

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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fluff-n-cookies · 7 months ago

Note

Hello :)

Could you please do and platonic Aizawa x daughter reader?

His daughter is in her teen years so she is being like really rebel and all that so they fought a lot, but one day she just breaksdown during one fight and starts crying and apologizing for being a shitty daughter?

I have been avoiding this for so long, and it's all because I have no idea how aizawa would handle something like this. because it goes against everything that Aizawa would try and teach his kid so this may be a little forcefully written, apologies.

TW : unhealthy parenting, mental illness, some suicidal thoughts, probably angsty shit, I dunno, read at your own risk.

We can start this by walking through how this may start in the first place. I think the best place to start is that reader's mom left her and Aizawa when she was very young, and Aizawa, assuming here he didn't understand how to properly tell her why her mother left her, never tells her why.

Now reader is very young so she might blame one of two things.

herself

her father

While both instances would technically work, I think the more favorable option is she blames herself since a young child would probably never blame an adult they look up to and hold dear as the problem.

Up to this point her father has been really kind to her so the only other variable is her, this spirals into social anxiety, low self esteem, and depression. all of which don't help when you have an absent mother and a neglectful father who is both a teacher and a full time hero, which leaves little to no room for children.

(this is also why I think it isn't realistic for Aizawa to keep Eri or a child without another non-hero caretaker. Fight me, I dare you.)

As time goes on, and this child becomes a teenager, she might not know how to properly express her feeling and after being misguided by factors like the internet, other adults, and "friends" she might take out the feeling of being abandoned on her closest caretaker and another source of her problems; Aizawa.

if you purposely yell at him or start arguments it's not going to be very fun because Aizawa has this complex where if his students or other heros represent incompetence or arrogance he expels them or ignores him rather than explaining it to them and helping them improve, this is especially with students.

and since he lacks a true connection with you as his daughter mainly because of his job(s) and past with Oboro which he is still trying to heal from keeping him from bonding with you, he'll treat you as a student like the rest of the teenagers he knows. and even then, you may actually be treated worse than his students because while he interacts with them daily, he interacts with maybe 1 hour every other day.

so from all that he simply ignores you, just stops interacting with you entirely, he's too tired for your bullshit. this action makes the wedge between you two even worse.

if you keep persisting though he will yell back but it's often really short and really loud. something like "SHUT UP" a cold "I don't care." before slamming the door in your face. He knows it's probably not right to do that to your daughter but let's face it. you're just this annoying teenager he legally has to live with if he doesn't want to lose his hero and teaching license.

this is where things actually get very interesting, because let's assume he stops approaching you entirely, you just live in the same house nothing more than that, and while you may act like you hate your father for ruining your family and neglecting you all your life on the outside, remember, you're still that little kid in second grade that blames yourself for your mother leaving and your father not caring for you.

so let's say you realize this and go back to blaming yourself for everything like you did when you where a kid but since your father stopped talking to you entirely explaining your faults to him maybe difficult.

this where my personal experiences come in, I've actually had this happen to me in my own life, and I truely hope that you'll enjoy it. thank you.

---------

why is it that the voices are the loudest in the dead of night?

the moon is gone, the birds are silent, there isn't a single light that shines on your tear streaked face, puffly, swollen, sad, just sad.

years of confusion, neglect, a lack of love in it's purest form.

all because of you.

it's all because of you.

it's sings so prettily, like it's a church choir spreading the word of the lord like it's common knowledge.

it's common knowledge that you are a terrible person!

it cackles.

the urge to strangle yourself to finally feel some relief has never been stronger.

lie awake in the dead of night, in pitch darkness, a proper scenery to match ones broken and cracked soul, be careful, you might hurt yourself, again.

however, one cannot weep in their wallows forever.

the night has to make way for the morning sun.

and a relaxed self pity has to make way to dread.

dread.

dread of him, he who you blame for everything, everything you know is your fault.

it's all your fault.

a click at the door,

the creak of the old wood and the hinges never oiled.

mild thumping footsteps that wander around the apartment that can barely hold your overflowing buckets of tears.

you can mumble out all your pleas.

pleas that this is all a terrible nightmare and your real life is actually one with a kind and loving mother and a supportive and encouraging father.

mumble out the little lies that you made up all these years to make yourself feel worse and other better.

"it's pointless to keep trying."

"I wish I wasn't here."

"why can't I just be happy?"

"it's all my fault,

it's all my fault,

it's all my fault."

the thin walls don't do those in mourning justice though.

for the wind is calm, the branches don't dare to move, the owls, the bats, the sleeping heros in training downstairs don't make a peep.

for the only ones alive, awake, aware, is a man beaten down and broken by society serving as it's protector, ignoring the one in most need of protection all this time. With him is a girl. a girl that's scared, scared of her mirror image that haunts her, a girl who's cried an ocean, screamed a thousand wails of pain, a girl lost in her own heart,

"No wonder no one loves you."

you lie again.

but keen ears trained from years of work with villains hears you, for the first time, he hears you.

not the rebellious teen he's seen yell out strings of pure hatred and fiery insults like he's her own worst enemy.

it's the girl who he saw waiting on the steps to their apartment all those years ago. waiting for her mama to come back home with the promise of cupcakes.

it's the girl who never smiled for the remainder of elementary school.

it's the girl who's heart withered way that autumn evening.

he heard the softest little voice in the dead of night. he heard his daughter cry

"No wonder no one loves you."

"But I love you."

for that whole night, for that whole night.

the peace was disturbed.

for that whole night, it seemed that the moon shone once again.

it may not be the sun. but it'll do for now.

Aizawa walked away shortly after that.

leaving a little girls and her mirror image to ponder.

ponder.

---------

Afterwards I don't think he'd talk about it too much, he's proabably approach you after breakfast the next morning and tell you "you can talk to him about it if you want." but not much more than that

he definitely would change his practices though. like getting you a therapist, taking the weekends off in favor of being around the house more.

he'll let you get used to his presence first like one would with a cat, and one day. maybe years later, or tomorrow, you'll talk to him.

you'll tell him you love him too.

and maybe.

just maybe.

the world will stop,

and everything will be okay.

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cephalophobic · 2 months ago

Text

The Yunnan University Murders

From the 13th to the 15th of February 2004, 23 year-old Jiajue Ma bludgeoned four classmates with a hammer in his dormitory at Yunnan University.

One of his victims, Ruijie Shao, was a roommate of his. His other victims (Kaihong Yang, Bo Gong and Xueli Tang) resided in neighbouring dormitories.

As Ma would later confess, the killings were sparked by an altercation over a game of cards. His friend, Ruijie Shao, had accused him of cheating which eventually escalated into an argument where Shao described Ma as a bad person and made remarks about his poor family. Ma came from an impoverished rural family in a remote village in the Guangxi Region. His family's poverty was something that he had worked hard to overcome by performing extremely well academically and subsequently attending Yunnan University to study Biochemistry.

Ma claimed that he had faced consistent harassment surrounding his background from not only his friends, but several other classmates during his time at the university. It is likely that this was a sensitive subject for him.

During the argument Shao also implied that Bo Gong had not invited Ma to his birthday party due to his abrasive character. Ma was enraged by this disrespect and made plans to kill both Gong and Shao. He researched other murders on the internet then bought a hammer, tape and plastic bags as apparatus for his own murders. He also obtained a fake ID so that he would be able to go into hiding afterwards.

Ma told police that the only reason he had killed Yang and Tang was because they got in the way of his plans to attack Shao and Gong.

(left to right) Xueli Tang, Ruijie Shao, Kaihong Yang, Bo Gong

On the 13th, Ma was alone in his dormitory as Ruijie Shao had gone to stay with a friend. At some point, Xueli Tang came to the apartment and intended to stay the night. Once he was asleep, Ma struck him in the head with a hammer and killed him. He then wrapped his body in a black bag and hid it in a closet.

When Shao returned on the 14th, Ma struck him across the back of the head with the hammer and killed him. Ma also wrapped his body in a bag and stored it in a separate closet.

On the 15th, Kaihong Yang heard that Ma had returned to the university and came to the dormitory to play cards with him. Scared that Yang would discover the bodies, Ma killed him in a similar fashion, putting his body in a bag and hiding it behind a cabinet. Later in the day Ma invited Bo Gong to the apartment to play cards, to which Gong received the same fate as Yang. Gong's body was hidden behind another cabinet.

Over all three days Ma attended class as usual.

After the fourth murder, Ma boarded a train at Kunming station where he used his fake ID to travel anonymously.

The dormitory where the murders occurred

Throughout his life, Ma had been isolated from his peers and struggled to make friends. One of his primary school teachers, Zangyuan Ma, stated that he 'had few friends to play with' as a child. At home he also exhibited problematic behaviour. While speaking about his parents' arguments in his diary he wrote

"I am so angry that I really want to kill him with a knife. My only hope is that my father will die soon"

He later wrote that killing his father would not be worthwhile as he was 15 and so would not get out of prison until he was at least 25.

In November of 1999, at age 18, he ran away from school because he was afraid he would fail the Gaokao exam due to his slipping grades. He was found more than 50 kilometres away from the school by police after a few days.

At University he had not participated in any group events over the four years he had attended and frequently quarrelled with classmates. One student said the following when asked about him.

"All of us felt his mental problems because he always picked fault with others while never thinking he may have done wrong"

Jiajue Ma as a child

The victims' bodies were discovered on the 23rd of February after another student had complained of the smell coming from the dormitory. After police inspection, Ma was considered a prime suspect and an estimated 1.7 million police officers were deployed on a nationwide manhunt. Additionally, a 200,000 yuan (US$24,000) reward was set for information leading to his capture. The case was closely documented by news outlets and quickly became known nationwide due to the brutality of what had happened to the students. The following is an extract from an article published on the 12th of March 2004, three days before Ma's arrest.

"Producing Ma Jiajue posters has become something like a folk art, as new variations appear every day. The stock of images is limited, but this has not stopped people from rearranging and resizing them, posting multiple photocopies on lampposts, storefronts, and residential entry gates. The repetition looks like an Andy Warhol exhibition. Right now, Ma Jiajue is the best known man in Yunnan. If the Rolling Stones and the reunited Beatles were coming to town, complete with a revived John Lennon and George Harrison, the publicity could not be greater. I don't think the Second Coming would get this much attention."

A reward posting in a newspaper

After 21 days at large, on the 15th of March, Ma was apprehended in Sanya, Hainan Province. He confessed to all four of the murders immediately. In custody he showed little remorse. The following is an extract from a letter he sent to family during this time.

"I am sure that this matter has caused some very bad consequences for the whole family. But I can no longer say that I am sorry. When you receive this letter, please forward my wishes to my parents --- you should ask my parents not to mind my business anymore. I don't want to see them again. I am no longer the person that I used to be. As far as my parents are concerned, I know that no matter how tall or how big I've grown, they will always think of me as little number '12'. But I have changed a lot, and when a person goes bad, there is no hope."

Ma was sentenced to death by the provincial high court of Kunming city and his date of execution set for the 24th of April 2004. He did not appeal his sentence. Prior to the verdict, Ma's sister requested the media that he undergo a second psychological assessment but this was dismissed as earlier examinations had shown he was not mentally ill. He was executed by shooting on the 17th of June 2004.

For the sake of consistency all names mentioned have been placed in the western format (forename first, surname last).

#tcc tumblr #tcctwt #truecrimecommunity #infopost #tccblr

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yanderederee · 1 year ago

Text

SocialCues

a/n: Been feeling a little down lately.. very self-comfort, but I hope anyone else who has deep rooted anxiety and poor social skills can appreciate this…

cw: depictions of bullying and self-degradation/anxiety. Angst/Comfort

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Why did this always happen? How, even?

You seriously couldn’t wrap your head around how you always found yourself in these damned situations…

After being left alone at your desk, you quietly listened as the classmate who had just walked away whispered to themselves.

“What a freak…”

What did you even do? A freak? You were rightfully polite and pleasant, just as you always have been.

Did you say something wrong? Something weird? All you did was ask your classmate about their dog. Out of all the subjects you were taught to bring up in conversation, pets and hobbies were a universal win. (Strictly of the other person, because if you started going on a rant about your own pet or hobbies, you would make the person feel awkward and at a loss for words.)

How is it you always had a way of making everyone you talk to feel so awkward and bored?

But it was so lonely being forced into submissive quietness. You may have hated that more than the quiet glares of others. So still, you try to do your best and talk to people.

But only after a month of trying, it was evident that others were beginning to avoid you. To avoid talking to you. Avoiding eye contact.

You repeated what you’ve been told over and over again.

Saying less is more.

Use considerate language; words and phrasings.

Don’t make the conversation about yourself.

Avoid too specific points of conversation.

Read their facial expressions.

If they look desperate to leave, end the conversation quickly as to not bother them further.

Maybe being too conscious of what you said was your downfall?

But seriously, what else could you do? If you tried being casual, you make it awkward. If you tried too hard, you make it awkward. And if you don’t try at all, you force yourself into isolation.

Once lunch time rolled around, you started your way to the bathrooms to wash your hands before eating. How could you eat when your hands were covered in eraser shavings and lead stains? However, just at the threshold of the bathroom entrance, you could hear a conversation.

“L/n just doesn’t know when to shut up, does she?”

“Seriously! I can’t even get in a word with her!”

“Really? I just felt like she wasn’t even there when I tried talking to her! Like, she was waiting for me to ask her questions or something.”

“She asks way too many questions, like, why are you so obsessed with me?”

“She doesn’t really have much of a personality, I can’t stand people like that!”

“I dunno, I just can’t stand her.”

Honestly, they were pretty loud. People around the bathroom could definitely hear whoever it was talking.

You honestly didn’t even know how to react.

Maybe this was a good thing? At least this way you knew what you were doing wrong. Unfiltered criticism on how you could do better. So silently, you stood and listened.

It really hurt, hearing people talk about you like this. But it was your fault in the first place. Suck it up. Do better. Be better.

Holding back your tears, you fidgeted with your fingers. It was no good. You were bound to burst out in tears at any second.

“Oi.” Out came a sudden call. Startled, your heart leapt out of your chest. Looking up, you saw your classmate, Baji Keisuke, holding three filing boxes of what you assumed to be pre-graded tests and other miscellaneous paperwork. “Lend me a hand, would ya? Teach wants these taken to the teachers lounge before lunch’s over.”

It took you a few seconds to properly register that he was actually talking to you. Though it was hard to tell, given his huge thick rimmed glasses. Once it finally clicked that he was actually talking to you, a wave of embarrassment hit you hard.

“Me? Oh, uhh… o-okay.” You agreed slowly, looking at your dirty hands. You guessed it would be more suitable to wait to wash your hands after carrying a dusty box. Somewhat relieved, you nodded and walked over to your black haired classmate, gingerly shifting the top most box out of his face, into your grip. “Just this one is fine, or should I grab another..?”

You began to ask, until you were met with awkward silence.

SHIT. YOU DID IT AGAIN? Already? Embarrassed to the point of tears, you started down. “S-sorry, dumb question.”

Your classmate seemed disgruntled at your comment. Self pity never looked good. You were just digging yourself into a more massive hole. Just shut up and take the boxes.

Lift your fair share.

Almost forgot that rule.

Just as you went to shuffle the second box out from his grasp, your class mate stepped back. “I got these, just the one is fine.” He said.

“Just the one?” You asked.

“Yeah.. I mean, not to sound like an ass— I mean, um…” he clicked his tongue, trying to think of a better way to rephrase his comment.

“You can say ass, I don’t care.” You giggled quietly. You were faking it a little, what with how shot your confidence was already. But it was cute watching Baji flounder for the right words.

“Right. What I mean is, I’m probably stronger than you are, carrying these isn’t any issue. I just needed help with the third one since it was blocking my view.”

That made sense. He was damn near a foot taller than you after all. And he didn’t seem to struggle with the load in strength. Your silence made your classmate a little on edge.

“I ain’t trying to call you weak or anything. Shit. Just.. lets go.” He huffed before starting his way to the stair case.

Following close behind, you were scrambling your head with how to reply. Do you need to reply? But he sounded a little unsure of his own phrasing, sometimes validation was good for these kinds of situations.

‘It’s okay, I didn’t think you were calling me weak.’

Simulating the conversation in your head, you give up, rationalizing that your comment would more than likely go unanswered anyway.

Lost in these thoughts, you trailed behind Baji silently.

That’s right.

When it doubt, just be quiet. Just. Be quiet.

And it seemed your classmate was content with this as well.

Just as you were rounding the stairs, you were suddenly overwhelmed by a group of boys roughhousing with one another, laughing and unbothered. Before you even had the chance to move out of their way, a boy had rammed into your side hard. This caused for a series of unfortunate events.

Being as you were just making your way down the stairs, this rash shove caused you to lose your balance, trip over your feet, and topple forward. It wasn’t pretty. You definitely did at least one summersault on your crash down, the box of papers you held flying everywhere. What would have made it worse was if you had crashed into Baji on your way down, but luckily for both of you, he had walked at a much quicker pace, and had already reached the bottom of the staircase before your topple.

It was dead silent. Luckily, there weren’t too many students around, but there were enough. The boys looked back to one another, contemplating if they could just run off before you realized who they were, stay and help, or even apologize. You were the weirdo of their class after all, it’s not like these kinds of things didn’t just… happen.

“The hells your guys’ problem, huh?!” Baji yelled. It was really loud, louder than you’d ever heard him before. “Got a death wish or somethin’? Help pick this shit up, now!”

Hell with his reputation, this shit pissed him off way more than his tempter would allow him to suppress.

“R-right!” The boys who’d bumped into you nodded and scrambled to pick up all the scattered papers. “And apologize!” Baji yelled a second time, furious that they hadn’t even considered to do that first.

“We’re really sorry!! We weren’t looking, it was an accident!! We’re sorry!” They groveled low to the ground as they cleaned up the mess of their own making.

Baji huffed, but seeing as they were doing exactly as he told, he let it be for now. He sat his own boxes down gently, squatting over to help you up. “Hey, you okay?” He asked.

“No—“ you snapped in a sarcastic tone, but it was only out of bubbling up frustration and humiliation. Clearing out your throat, before he would reply, you started to pick up the papers scattered at your bruised knees. “Yeah, sorry. I’m okay; just didn’t expect it.. sorry I dropped the box. Sorry.” You repeated quietly, head hung low.

You only ever made trouble. If you’d just moved out of the way faster, you wouldn’t have messed up so harshly. Even if they were clearly in the wrong, if you’d just caught your footing instead of tripping, none of this would have happened.

“Come on, these bastards can take the rest from here.” Baji glared while his glasses slipped past his nose, leaving each boy trembling in fear. “W-we’ve got it from here..” One nodded in defeat.

Baji grabbed your shoulders, you rushed you to your feet. “Don’t worry about this, ‘going to the nurse.” He had an aura of order around him while helping you down the remaining stairs. “It’s okay, you don’t have to walk me..” you mumbled, not even sure it was worth going to the nurse for anyway. All you did was fall.

“You’ve got a few knots, and a lot of bruising. You should really be put on ice.” Baji looked you over as the two of you walked. “It had to of hurt. Seriously, those guys should have been looking where they were going. Don’t worry about it though, I’ll make sure they properly apologize again later.”

You chuckled humorlessly, and waved him off, eyes still glued downcast. “It’s not that big of a deal. It was an accident.”

“Accident or not, they’re gonna pay.” He muttered. “Sorry to trouble you, you’d probably have been better off if I just took the boxes all myself.”

“No worries, I wanted to help.”

Once you reached the nurse, Baji stopped you before going in. “You’re L/n, right?”

“Y-yeah, Y/n L/n… I sit in the front, a few rows to the right of where you sit.”

“Right. Sorry bout that again, I’ll let the teacher know you’ll be back a little later than lunch, so don’t sweat hurrying back. Just take your time.”

When was the first the anyone was this considerate of your wellbeing? Sure, it was a common courtesy, but it was still out of the norm. He gave a final look over of you, he seemed to narrow his brows further. “Well … I’m off. Seriously, take it easy.” He waved, and stepped back, waiting for you to enter.

“Right… thank you, Baji.” You have a slight bow before escaping into the nurses office.

⋆｡ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You were so tired. Maybe it would be best to let it go. Just accept you weren’t able to make friends. Finally accept something was actually wrong with you, and just stop trying.

Murmurs about your little fall were the talk of the class after lunch. Apparently the guys who bumped into you were actually pretty popular. Spreading misinformation about what happened, and making you out to be the bad guy. Seriously, what did you ever do to them? It wasn’t fair.

Overwhelmed, the end of the day came, and it was becoming impossible to tune out all 20 different conversations happening simultaneously as students filed out of the classroom. You bit your tongue and waited. The room would become empty before too long.

One by one, everyone left. And you were finally left alone. Finally. The weight of the day finally began to settle in the newfound quietness.

You quietly laid your head down on your desk, and held your arm sleeves tightly. Just breath. Why is it no matter what, you always make things worse? It was so suffocating, you didn’t even realize how harsh your breathing had become. Tears burned your eyes, and suddenly you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Openly sobbing into your sleeves, you huddled in upon yourself closer.

This sucked! What the hell! You didn’t do anything wrong! So why…

It didn’t do any good to think about it further than that. All thinking did was make it worse. Stop thinking. Just pretend like it didn’t happen. Pretend like you don’t hear anyone when they talk behind your back anymore. Pretend like your knees don’t hurt, like your feelings weren’t crushed. No one cared anyway. Suck it up.

Do better. Be better. Stop crying. Stop—

“Hey…” you heard a soft voice call out beside you. Your breath hitched. Was the classroom not empty? Did you seriously start crying in front of someone like that? This had to be the worst day.

You felt something cold touch your shoulder, and what you can only assume to be a juice box plopped down on your desk.

You didn’t lift your head. Soon to follow, the slight screech in a chair pulled out beside you, and the shifting of clothes. “Leave me alone…” you said softly; hoarsely.

“I thought about it… but it kinda seems like you could use a friend.” Wait, you recognized that voice. Ever so slightly, you turned your head to the side, and peeked past your hair to see Baji sitting slouched and wide legged beside you.

Still, you couldn’t let him see you like this. Rubbing your eyes against the material of your sleeve, you mumbled again. “It’s okay. You really don’t have to do all that.”

He was quiet. You were hopeful that he wouldn’t push the pity treatment further. The juice box was enough. It was thoughtful, and sweet. He was trying. But it was unnecessary. You’d forget about today soon enough.

Baji wasn’t sure what he should do. Maybe he should just leave you alone. He wasn’t really that good at comforting people, and you really didn’t seem in the mood to talk.

He’d never talked to you before today anyway.

Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to do it.

Anytime your name was brought to mention, it was always some bullshit gossip he never cared to listen to. You kept a low profile and seemed to always have a cheery aura about you. Those rumors were just that, rumors. It kind of reminded himself of when people would mumble about him behind his back when he first got held back. Sure, everything that everyone said about him was true, about being a delinquent, or being dumb. But it didn’t seem that way with you.

“People are assholes and just say shit to make you feel bad about yourself. I’m friends with a bunch of weirdos— some real freaks, so I can confidently say you aren’t as weird as people make you out to be.”

Well, it was a nice thought, if anything else. You giggled, sniffling a last few times before turning away from Baji, and wiping your face clean. You faced forward, a guilty smile decorating your features.

Baji Keisuke wasn’t ever really one to notice a person’s appearance, not for girls anyway. Yet he couldn’t help but admire you. Maybe it was the puffiness of your eyes and lashes, all clumped up together in wet mattes. Or maybe it was the gentle smile of giving up that twisted his heart into feeling like he should help you. To get closer to you.

“H-here.” Baji stuttered, and held out his glasses to you. “I don’t actually need them, they’re just for show. You were trying to hide you were crying, right?”

You blinked suspiciously at him, who was a little red faced and shifting of his own gaze. Was he trying to be considerate? Either way, it made you laugh. “Why do you wear them if you don’t need them?” You took the bait, and reached out for the plastic glasses.

“Well, I’ve been told I can look, intimidating, kinda. Like I’m always glarin’ or something. S-so, I guess that’s why?” He couldn’t exactly tell you he didn’t want to be recognized for being Tokyo Manji Gang’s first division captain.

“That so?” You played along, putting the glasses on in playful banter. “Huh, you’re right. They’re fake.” You smiled, and looked back over at Baji. Immediately, Baji broke out into a fit of laughter.

“Bwaaahaha! What the hell! You look so dorky!” He toppled onto himself, holding his side. You immediately followed his fit of laughter, kicking the chair below him. “I look dorky? Speak for yourself poindexter! You’re the one who looks goofy on the daily!”

Normally, those comments would cause Baji to roll his eyes, but with how lighthearted the air was, it only managed to make him laugh harder.

It felt good, laughing so hard with someone. A stranger even. “Alright, come on’, I’ll treat you to some ramen. You had to skip out on eating lunch since I asked you to help me right? You gatta be starving.” Baji offered, hoisting himself up and out of his chair, pushing it in.

“Well…” you thought about it. You’d hate to put him out and cause anymore unnecessary trouble. Yet, for once, you felt like you understood the social cues going on around you. Being able to relax, smile and laugh with someone, and they offer to take you out for food? Would it really be a bad thing to accept?

“Sure…”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers comfort #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers baji #baji #baji keisuke #keisuke baji #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #tokrev baji

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chronically-ghosted · 1 year ago

Text

stay gold, baby boy

rating: 18+ (expliiiiicit)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: almost 6K

summary: six months into your friends-with-benefits situation, you institute a new game. A gold star on the board every time Dieter is a good boy. Today, he gets bingo . . . for wearing real pants.

warnings: friends with benefits (with more feelings), oral (m receiving), dom/sub dynamics (guess who subs today!), talks of edging, hair pulling, creampie, piv sex, praise kink, my mother raised me to have better taste in men but fuck it

a/n: remember when i posted this picture? And then this one? Remember how you could hear me yelling from space? Well, @sp00kymulderr has added fuel to the fire – Dieter and stickers. I can’t explain myself except that I was horny and I wanted to take his pants off with my teeth. So I did.

✨gif credit goes to the ever incredible, talented, and enabler of my dieter fantasies @perotovar! she saw me floundering with the header and immediately was like 'hold please i can make his baby cow eyes even better'✨

🤍Masterlist

With your foot on the low table, your ass firmly planted on the middle poofy cushion of the dumpster bin couch at the back of the trailer, thumbnail nibbled between your teeth, you have to admit it’s starting to get a little embarrassing. It’s honestly such a bad look.

Not that he would ever shame you for it. In fact, he’d probably like it.

And it’s not like you waited for him here all day. You had things to do as one of the co-screenwriters on this film. You had things to do and people to see and stuff to organize – all of which had nothing to do with Dieter fucking Bravo.

Okay, so a lot of it actually had to do with him. Lots of scene rewrites, lots of notes from the studio, lots of instances where the two of you had to put your heads together and come up with a solution that made the studio happy and didn’t make you want to claw your eyes out artistically speaking.

Which had led to this.

And the past six months of whatever this is. Working together led to seeing each other (outside of work), to eating with each other, to fucking each other – with the line firmly drawn there.

Whatever you may say about Dieter, the man could compartmentalize in a way that would make Marie Kondo weep with joy. By the way he treated you on set, no one in their right mind would ever have guessed he knew what you looked like naked. Or that he knew your left nostril twitched just before you came.

The same could be said for you too. Out of boredom one morning in the grocery store, you bought a trashy magazine with his face emblazoned across the top – Dieter Bravo and His Lonely Hearts Club. You weren’t one for the gossip rags, but flipping through it, not a single one of his “club members” mentioned his raging praise kink. You bought the damn thing on the spot, giving them all a consolation prize of some sort. Sorry, ladies, guess I win. Ha. Ha.

But, at the edge of the cushion, eyes occasionally flicking between the door and the failing darkness outside, you didn’t feel much like you’d won anything.

In fact, you’d lost. Big time. When all of this had been your stupid idea in the first place.

It had been your idea (and your initiative) to buy a packet of gold star stickers. Like the kind teachers use with their first graders. Actually, exactly like the ones teachers use for their first graders. You couldn’t form words when the woman at the education supply store ringing you up asked, “oh, what grade do you teach?”. You just tossed a twenty at her and booked it, your face painfully hot for a fairly innocuous purchase.

But all of that was his fault for dropping a praise kink and a teacher kink on you all at once the night after you jokingly spanked him with a ruler in front of the director, in-front of his co-star, because he wouldn’t agree to a line change, and he had to excuse himself from the room.

A month later and he forgoes touching himself for a gold star. He agrees to your line changes without argument for a gold star. He picks you up in the morning and drives you home at night for a gold star (you could drive yourself, but there’s always that last minute thing you need to talk to him about so you do it just because it’s easier, really).

He lets you come, over and over again, and keeps nothing for himself – all for a gold star.

Someone is bound to figure it out. They have to. Six months in and you’re getting sloppy. Obvious. What the fuck would you be doing in his trailer at seven o’clock at night after a full day of shooting unless you’re fucking him?

But you, worryingly, can’t find it in you to care.

You had lost your mind, that’s what you lost. Because tonight is the night Dieter gets his final gold star. It’s his reward but you’re about to vibrate out of your skin with want.

(It didn’t matter that you hadn’t seen each other in two weeks and by the third day, an ache had settled in behind your breastbone, one that clutched your phone in your hand, and forced your eyes to the screen every minute, checking for a new text message.

He called on day five, by the way.)

Your neck snaps up when you hear voices outside of the trailer. Laughter, his.

You suddenly feel the need to flatline against the floor in case anyone might see you.

Fuck, and how are you supposed to explain yourself if the someone he is with follows him into the trailer? Too many frightfully bad scenarios and you’re rooted to the floor, unable to make a single decision.

The metal latch clinks and his trailer door swings wide open.

“Yeah, man, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

You can hear a deep, “see ya” from the other side (maybe Daryl from craft services?) and the scrap-metal trailer squeaks, as the lock clicks shut.

Dieter scratches his cheek, surveying the trailer as if some part of him knows something is different, but his conscious mind can’t figure it out.

Until he turns. And nearly leaps out of his skin.

“Fuckin’ – what are you doing in here? Wait – I thought you left town to scope out the new location in San Diego.”

You want to answer him. You know how – open your mouth and tell him the trip’s been delayed for a few days, nothing serious, timeline bullshit – but you can’t.

It’s officially embarrassing.

It’s embarrassing how turned on by Dieter Bravo you are.

Hair in all kinds of directions, skinny cloth bracelet loose around his wrist, he had pushed up the sleeves of his henley shirt, exposing the thickly drawn triangle over his forearm and the clear one near his wrist. His hand with the rings hangs by his side and something inside of you silently whines.

But what really sets you off, what really makes this embarrassing and terrible because there’s no bluffing here, no hiding your cards and folding – nothing you can do to keep spit from flooding your mouth the longer you look –

He’s wearing pants.

Black with loose belt loops. Zipper and all. A silver button sitting between his hips. Fuck. Just like you told him to. Fuck fuckfuck.

You’re briefly aware when he says your name and you have to make a physical effort to tear your eyes away from that glinting silver eye winking up at you.

Dieter’s frowning, knowing silence isn’t really your thing.

“Are you okay? Why are you –,”

As though it had called his name, his gaze drifts from your face to the table between you and him. Where his scorecard rests with four stars in the Good column, and shockingly, none in the Bad.

His mouth parts, eyes going dark, as the realization hits him like a mack truck.

“Delays,” you say suddenly, preemptively, knowing that normal people usually have some sort of preamble before tearing each other’s clothes off. You stand up a bit straighter, tilt your jaw away from him, gaze leveling him from the end of your nose. You have got to get this thing under control. “Frank ran into some scheduling issues with the boat for the lake scene so, until further notice, the trip to San Diego has been delayed.”

He blinks slowly as if he’d been struck over the back of the heat, mouth parted. He has such fucking gorgeous, fucking perfect lips –

“So you’re here?” he asks, his voice low, disbelieving.

You scoop up the scorecard and step over the table, your shoes long since gone. It’s like his vision narrows the closer you come; he is transfixed, gaze on you as if molded at the seams, as you step up to him. You tap him on the chest once with the corner of the scorecard, excitement and nerves and that ache making you tremble despite your confident appearance.

“So I’m here.”

“On the last day of the week.” Words thick, as if all the moisture had been sucked out of his mouth.

“On the last day of the week.”

“When I,” he swallows thickly, “when I should get my reward.”

God, this kind of power trip should not be making you this wet.

You lift your gaze from his chest, taking in his beautifully dumb-struck face.

“You will.” You nod. “And do you know why?”

His breath quickens, lip between his teeth, when you scratch off the final star from the package and stick it to the Good column.

“Because I was a good boy?”

You toss the scorecard behind you, it clatters onto the table, and you cup the back of his hot neck.

“Because you were a very good boy.”

He stumbles back, knees unsteady, when you kiss him. You see his eyes a split second before you close yours and hot electricity swoops down to the pit of your stomach. It would be mortifying if you just fucked him right here and now – he does deserve something extra special – but fuck – you want his whole hand inside of you.

His warm palm slides across your jaw, pulling you into him, and Dieter breathes, deep and long, inhaling as much as he can. You don’t think he realizes that he’s picked you up off the ground with his arm around your back until he opens his eyes, vision hazy and off-center.

“Go lock the door, baby.”

He nods and puts you back down. You slip off your jacket as he bolts the trailer door shut.

Dieter’s mouth drops open when he turns around and sees you on your knees.

Shit, you should have stolen some knee pads from the costume department.

“Really?”

You smile at him because he asks like a kid that just got offered a puppy for Christmas. You reach towards him and he takes your hand, unsteady on weak knees

“For as long and as much as you want.”

You palm him and Dieter groans, mouth-closed at the sensation, the hard ridge of the metal zipper not one he is entirely familiar with. At least, not like this. Beneath the warm press of your palm, you feel him thicken, harden, and you press more, digging your fingers into his thighs. The muscles in his legs tense, his mouth falls open, as his hips cant forward, desperate for the new weight of the zipper.

“And I won’t make you wait, Dieter,” you say, eyes tripping up from where your hand sits, up to the flash of exposed tummy where his pants have ridden down and his shirt slid up, into his almost surprised gaze. “You’ve been very good, wearing this for me, but I want you to learn why it’s important to wear pants with buttons.”

“I-I t-t-thought,” he tries, voice abruptly cutting off when you nuzzle the constrained bulge in his pants. He tries again, eyes slamming shut as if to stifle the sensation of your warm breath so near to where he needs you the most. “I thought i-it was so I d-din’t – didn’t look bad.”

Your face still pressed into his crotch, you briefly massage his calves, then the backs of his thighs. You cup the curve of his ass through the starchy back pockets, which is remarkably prominent now that he’s in something else than baggy sweatpants.

You shake your head, nose dragging along his hot length, against the space between his hip bone and his cock, smiling.

“Baby, you know I like how you look. I always want you to be comfortable.” You look up and meet his eyes. The remaining brown not yet wholly consumed by a blurry, heated darkness softens. Somewhere beneath the hazy, disarming feelings of lust currently filling his head like a bike tire, he’s still your Dieter. Or – well, wait – at least the Dieter you know. The Dieter you have impossibly fun times with. The Dieter who makes you laugh like no one else. The Dieter that can make you fall apart until you’re a gooey, dripping mess and he still manages to stitch you back together. The Dieter that keeps you up at night thinking he might possibly want something more. “But this is so much more fun.”

Grounding your chest against his thighs, holding yourself against him as leverage, you sink your teeth into the corner of the fabric fastening his pants together. Eyes up at him again, you tug and his cock is pushed up against your tits from the force of the pull. He rocks forward, an airy gasp escaping his mouth, and the button gives, the lip of the fabric sliding back as the silver disk slips through the hole. Now your touch is unimpeded by rough fabric when you lean forward and kiss him just below the waistband of his black boxers.

It takes you a second to realize that Dieter Bravo is wearing underwear at all and you smirk up at him.

Something about your gaze makes the tips of his ears go red, as if he had been caught being very naughty. His big hand cups from your jaw to your ear, as if trying to placate you, beg you not to be mad this close to his cock.

“You said I had to dress u-up,” he says, eyes wide and round. God, he’s trying to be so good. One week of the rating system and Dieter Bravo is a trembling mess. Despite your wildly beating heart, you smirk, your thighs shaking briefly at the sudden rush of tenderness you feel for the man in front of you. You hide your own blush by mouthing that open spot just below his tummy and above his cock, wetting the black material with your tongue. Before he can whine about it, you pull back just barely, enough to curl your fingers around both his black underwear and the pants he wore for you. Just as you begin to pull down, you nip the zipper between your teeth and slowly, slowly, rubbing your nose against him, tug the metal teeth apart. His pants open and Dieter groans loudly. He’s already so sensitive.

For a mouthy, ego-driven bastard, he really did have a magnificent cock. Flushed at the base, thickest you’d ever had inside you, and he’s leaking silvery threads from the head. The vein thickly pulsating on the side makes you wonder how he hasn’t passed out from all the blood rushing to his cock.

You lick that vein, that beating pulse, and his knees buckle. His massive hand grips your shoulder and Dieter shakes his head, his mouth wrenching open.

“Please, please — mhmm — don’t tease. I-I can’t – you haven’t – please.”

As if you would be cruel to him. You feel rather dizzy, elated on the idea that you wield this much power over him. That he trusts you with all of him. There it comes again, that arching ache in your chest.

“I’m just trying to get myself ready for you,” you confess quietly. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Dieter swallows something large in his throat, panic receding from his eyes. His smile is small and his touch on your cheek is light.

“I know.”

And you weren’t lying. You’d never forget the sound of your jaw popping and cracking the morning after you sucked him off three times before you let him come. Dieter is shockingly big, annoyingly only when he uses it against you or makes you tell him over and over just how big he is before giving it to you. For now, you just want to remind him how very appreciative you are that he gives it to you at all.

Eyes decidedly looking away from the warmth on his face, you squeeze the backs of his thighs as you relax your jaw as much as you can. Above you hear him huff with his mouth shut as you start to take him in, your tongue wetting that soft skin on the underside of his cock. One move forward and you’ve wet him halfway, tongue massaging that vein. Another drop of your head and you’ve taken him completely.

“Fuck,” Dieter murmurs, the hand on your shoulder tightening. Your heart pounds in your chest all the harder when he takes his other hand and knots your hair with his fingers. By the twitching of his thighs beneath your palms, you know it’s taking every ounce of his restraint to not buck his hips forward. “That’s it that’s my girl you take me so fucking good you feel so fucking good.”

The thing about your mouth that is markedly different from your pussy: you can’t release your gag reflex to take more of him. But fuck, you want him to fuck the back of your throat – you just might drown before it happens.

He smells surprisingly clean as your nose inches closer and closer to his skin. With each pull, you slide your tongue down the other side, until it pokes through and licks where you haven’t reached with your mouth yet, inches from his pelvis. He shudders when you use the tip of your tongue.

“Oh my god, your mouth, baby, your mouth.” The words dribble out of his slack mouth, fingers flexing in your hair as if he can mimic pushing your head down further. You pull all the way off him, tongue catching the rim of his cock and he drops his head back against his shoulders and moans. The sound of it makes your pussy throb and you breathe out your nose to stifle your own noises. This is about him. He did good. He was a good boy the whole week.

You replace your mouth with your hand. Sufficiently wet from the way you slobbered all over his cock, you use a fist around his flushed head to smear pre-cum all the way down to the base of him. You brush his balls with your knuckles, just as you fit the tip between your lips, sucking – and Dieter bucks, hard.

“Ngh – shit! S-sorry!” His nails dig into his thighs, eyes squeezing shut as silvery threads spurt out from his cock.

Maybe you’d gone too far with the whole sticker thing and he really thought this was another test. His cheeks are burnt pink, his chest heaving and it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

“Dieter,” you cry softly, gently, comfortingly. He still doesn’t open his eyes, not even when you resume stroking him. You lick the soft skin of his balls and his gasp punches the air out of his lungs, his eyes splitting open. He looks down at you, thighs trembling and you squeeze him gently. Not to edge him or punish him, but to make this last a bit longer for him. “Dieter, take your shirt off and sit down.”

He can’t move fast enough. He yanks the henley over his shoulders, the collar scraping his hair up in wild directions. He goes to sit but his thighs are shaking too much and he just sort of tumbles onto his ass. Smiling, you take your own shirt off, hoping to save this particular bra reveal for another time, but fuck, this time is as good as any. Despite his panting and squirming, his gaze rolls from your face to your tits. Emerald green with black lace, this is far too nice for a work bra and it properly communicates to him that you were going to fuck him whether or not he was going to get that final gold star. The realization is visible as it crosses his mind, bleeding hungry black in his eyes.

You take off his pants all the way, before sliding your own jeans down and to the floor. His roving gaze catches the matching panties and the noise in his throat is deep, like a smothered grunt.

“Now, I’m going to suck you off no matter what,” you say as you crawl in between his legs, before leaning back and sitting on your heels. You smooth your hands down his thighs, near his red, stark cock, but not touching. Dieter’s breathing hitches in anticipation, not sure where to put his hands or his gaze. “But I want you to answer one question for me first.”

He nods rapidly, spreading his knees further for you as if to remind you there’s other places he could be fucked.

“Why did you think I was going to punish you today?”

You’ve asked this question paraphrased a dozen times, usually when you both know the answer: he came without asking, or he came by himself, or any of the dozen reasons Dieter liked to push your buttons, only for you to break him as far as he can go. But today, there’s no sultry edge, no double meaning. Your question is sincere and it takes him a moment to understand. He swallows as his eyebrows tug down on his forehead, something vulnerable flashing in his eyes before a look of uncertainty crosses his face.

“We’ve never had sex just to have sex.” He says it like a question. He settles into the floor one hand going behind his head, the linear tattoo on his forearm dark like a third eye. “Not that I’m complaining but it’s always a competition, or because we’re bored, or you wanna work out some personal shit because of the costume department. I know this is my reward, but I figured there had to be some kinda catch to it.”

You frown deeper than him. “There’s no way we haven’t had normal sex.”

Something like a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Define normal sex.”

Now it’s your turn to go warm across the cheeks. “I mean, like . . . outside of . . . our roles. Where there aren’t roles at all. It’s just . . .”

You break off for the third time, the look in his eyes forcing you to snap your mouth shut before you say something incriminating like, just us.

Dieter shakes his head. “No, we haven’t.”

“You’re telling me in six months, that’s never happened once?” You adjust on your heels and cross your arms. “It’s not like you can remember every time we’ve had sex.”

“I do.” This, coming from him, is not a question. It’s an irrefutable statement that you don’t seem able to refute with a no you don’t. There is no room for arguing.

Driving right on through the heat of your cheeks, that ache returning, you shake your head. “Then doesn’t that get old? Having to play games every single time?”

Dieter pouts as he thinks, eyes on the roof of the trailer. “Sometimes, but I don’t mind. Not enough to want to stop fucking you.”

“So, after a week of nothing, you were totally willing to let me edge you within an inch of your life? Let me treat you badly?”

Dieter smirks and it suddenly feels like you’re the one under him. “Sure, but you like me too much to keep it going for too long. And you like watching me come.”

Your teeth grind together at this very bold accusation, your entire face blazing. Weren’t you supposed to be domming him today??

His feet slide out beside you and Dieter is the very picture of arrogance, his arm still tucked behind his head. He drums his fingers on his stomach.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he says, the smirk around his mouth soft, “I like you too.”

It doesn’t. Not really. Not when his words spear through you hot and hard, landing in your chest like a landmine. Fuck.

Fuck.

“Oh, so this is all for me, then?” You ignore the fact that you’ve slipped back into your role in active defiance of talking about this anymore, and crawl forward until your forearms frame his head. That teasing contentment fades from his face as he watches you, eyes following a line that only he can see from your nose, lips, chin, throat and tits. Your hair slips off your shoulder, darkening the light on his face when you straddle his waist. “But what about you? Don’t you want to come?”

He nods, slower than before, but only to keep from breaking eye contact with you. Light as feathers, Dieter trails his fingers up the backs of your thighs, over the curve of your ass, to settle into your hips. His mouth parts in anticipation, pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

“I do,” he says, rolling his neck as if he can see more of you this way. “I really fuckin’ do.”

“What a coincidence.” You shift down, dragging the wet patch on the emerald green underwear beneath your drooling cunt, shift until it slides across his half-hard cock and Dieter’s hands dig into your hips, a groan breaking off in the back of his throat. His eyes slip half-closed, a thick, smoky black enveloping that beautiful brown. “So do I.”

Grinding down over so slightly, you roll your hips once more – Dieter tenses, his hands easing to the tops of your thighs – before sitting back on his knees.

“Now relax, baby, you’ve earned it.”

You drop forward over his hips, open your mouth, and slurp him up between your lips.

The noise that comes out of his chest is broken, knocked loose, split down the middle. You take him all in one, down until your nose is tickled by his coarse hairs, and you swallow. He is immediately, instantly, rock hard and dribbling. You swallow again and his hands dive into your hair, knotting the strands around his fingers, the way a rider draws up the reins of his horse. He goads you down with just gentle pressure, needy and demanding all at once, and you take him, and you take him, and you take him until the blunt head prods the back of your throat and you gag, throat constricting, and Dieter’s eyes roll back in his head.

“Shit, that’s too fucking good.”

You breathe out your nose, pulling up just enough to keep him off your reflex, but instead you hollow out your cheeks and suck, tongue pressing up against him and around that hammering vein.

And here, here comes the sound you’ve wanted from him all night –

Dieter whines, high and keening, his neck straining, your skull pinching from where he pulls. Between your thighs, the emerald green is completely ruined, buffed out dark in the wet.

The vein throbs again and you nearly drop onto your elbows, not caring if you choke or drown or sputter, you want him in your mouth, you want that salty, gooey taste of him that you find you can’t seem to lick up enough. You want him inside you –

With a grunt that morphs into a groan as it rises up his chest, he tugs hard enough on your hair that the pain splits your mouth open, head tugged back enough that he slips out of you, a thread of pre-cum from your puffy lips to the tip of his blunt head.

You lied. This wasn’t entirely for him.

You can feel your lips twist into a snarl. “Dieter, what are you –,”

He kisses you with such a force, that noise in his chest is transferred to yours, a collision that sparks a causal nexus and his own desperation bleeds with your own. The kiss is messy, dizzying, spit and pre-cum smearing across swollen lips and wet tongues. He twists his fingers deeper into your hair, as if he can consume you through the bowl of your skull.

Your name is something that tumbles, falls, drips from him, his mouth tilted a fraction of an inch away from yours. Eyes dark, full, a beast that howls for the moon in your eyes.

He’s going to fuck your brains out on the floor of this rickety-ass trailer.

Dieter tugs you forward, drags you onto your knees over him as he settles beneath you. Your fingers knock with his in a fight to reach your panties first, to shove them down your hips and thighs, get them to the floor.

Dieter’s flushed, pupils dark, big hands grappling against the weight of you as he pulls you onto him. You are so aroused, so sunken into the smoke of lust, you go as you are moved, his cock smearing apart your wet pussy. Dieter sits up, eyes locking onto where you’ve nearly become a single creature, and then he hesitates.

Sanity seems to ring his bell, for just a moment. Without waiting, he sucks two fingers into his mouth, coating them with his spit, and you can see what he’s about to do just before he moves. You shake your head, knees aching from carrying your weight against the flat trailer floor, and sit up off him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Don’t need it,” you mutter before licking into his mouth. He drops his head back to let you sink your tongue between his lips. Both hands wrapped around his jaw, you thumb his earring and he grunts out the side of his mouth. “I want –,”

His big hands settle and it’s like he dropped a thousand pound weight between your ribs. You drop, right onto him, his cock forcibly shoving you apart in a single thrust. Dieter barks out a moan, his hands clutching your spine, teeth going for your shoulder to muffle anything else that threatens to escape him.

You swear your nerves are on fire.

He always takes his time with you, for your benefit, and his. He can be maddening and incessant and demanding, right up until this part, the part where he could actually hurt you. Right then, he waits. Lets you come to him. Let you take as much as you want and he holds you tight.

But this, this is you taking all you want and then some.

In the split second you allow for your bodies to recognize the give and the take, the swell and the invasion, you meet his gaze.

No roles. No games. No landmines.

Exposure.

Blistering and brittle.

Safety.

You curl your toes underneath you, grip his shoulders, and slide up on an inhale. On an exhale, you thrust down and you don’t know who cries out louder.

Dieter pulls you to him, arm banded around your back, the other to balance as he leans back to meet your downward strokes with his upward thrusts. His fingers pinch the clasp of your bra and the straps slide off your shoulders, your frantic bouncing knocking those emerald cups loose.

“Oh, yeah, oh fuck yeah.” He mouths at your collarbone, tonguing the sweat that blooms across your skin. Your short huffs have your chest trembling, a shudder disrupting your breath when he uses the blunt edge of his teeth against the soft curve of your breast. His nose against your skin, he turns his head and licks your nipple into his mouth. He sucks, licks, your rapid rise and fall catching your sensitive peak against the tops and bottoms of his teeth. He uses the barest hint of pressure and your back arches. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, repeating that same pattern with his tongue, while his fingers flick your hardened bud.

You think you’re going to melt, fracture and ooze into this hot pool of pleasure that hums between your legs.

“Fuck, Dieter,” your own voice is unrecognizable, breathy and high, cut short every time his hips meet yours in a harsh slap, “I can’t –,”

He rubs up against something truly devastating inside of you and immediately your legs give out. You topple into him, arms around his neck, nose pressed up against his jaw. You feel his overheated skin, a balm, a solidifying force, against your cheek. The whirling inferno in your head soothes. A drop of sweat from his hairline trails down by your eye and you lick it.

“Make me come, Dieter,” you whisper for him, of him, beg in a way that only he can hear. You nuzzle his earring and he keens. “Please – I need it – n-n-need you.”

Open-mouthed, breath hot, flush down to his chest, he slithers the hand against your back between your warm bodies and finds your clit. Drags his thumb across it as his hips pound up into you – you can’t hear what he says in your ear, the edge you’re dangling over loud and pulsing – and then there’s a softness against your throat.

The white spark between your thighs erupts and you come so hard you scream. A release. Controlled and contained brightness now spilling out everywhere, you can feel it as you soak his lap. It drips and winds down, and it drunkenly slides off you. Finally, you curl into him, a muddled tingle radiating out across your nerves.

You sink into your skin again and hear him, still whispering, still talking.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come it’s okay baby I’ve got you I’ve got you I’m here – I’m gonna – g-gonna – oh, shit,”

His hips thrust up one more time before a full body shudder yanks his words and the air right out of his mouth. You melt as his cum floods your insides, the warm pulses intoxicating in the place he so forcefully claimed for his own. His shoulders curved towards you, his hand pinches the knot of your spine as if to steady himself, palm scalding against your skin. In your exhaustion, your sweaty forehead falls against his.

He doesn’t seem to mind.

Seconds mold into minutes, minutes into maybe hours then days.

Dieter’s trembling elbow finally weakens and with his arm around your back, he tips you both backwards.

His cock rubs up inside of you in a new way and your cunt clenches involuntarily. You both groan when his cum leaks out of you, squeezed out by the contraction. You shift your hips to lay fully on him, and his cock slides out, but his arm around you remains.

It remains long after your breathing settles, long after the sweat dries and your exposed skin grows cold. The longer you lay together, the more you feel he’s going to start stroking you, touching you in a way that a fuck buddy shouldn’t. But he doesn’t. He keeps you close but doesn’t move.

The feeling, the ache in your chest. It’s soothed and hastened by the beating of his heart beneath yours, your ear lying flat against his chest. It beats so loudly for you.

For some unfathomable reason, you glance up at the window. It’s dark out, the sun set and gone. For all you know, you two might be the only two people on the entire lot.

“Dieter.” His name sticks in your mouth. “Dieter, I –,”

“Five stars?”

You blink, lifting your head for the first time in ages, sweat on his skin almost suctioning your ear to his chest. He’s grinning, curls matted and damp against his forehead.

He reaches up to the table behind him and snags that stupid bingo card, along with that packet of shiny gold star stickers.

This feeling, you can contain it.

For now.

Smirking down at him, you peel off one of the bigger stars and with your thumb, you press it into the center of his forehead.

“Five stars, Dieter. Five star dick.”

His smile widens.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the bubble fanfic #the bubble 2016 #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #the bubble

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cielur5ww · 8 months ago

Text

୨📜୧ ─────・ It's my problem, not yours.

▭ Synopsis﹕ Scaramouche had heard of you, the perfect student... the one who had it all. Though he had never interacted with you, he found you disagreeable. But it seems this time, you'll be getting closer than he'd prefer... so why does he feel this pressure in his chest and the heat rising to his cheeks?

★ ❪CW❫── male!reader!student x Scaramouche, AU modern, small insults, the reader is a perfect student, Scara hates you a little, Scara's POV, Scara being a tsundere

ᶻz ─── n/a﹕I just vomited this idea, ignore me.. Maybe I'll do more parts, MAYBE (I am very procrastinating and lazy). Any spelling mistakes... sorry, I don't want to review it, I'll probably post something new in another 2 months.

Scaramouche sighed, letting out a slight huff as he rolled his eyes to disguise his mild annoyance.

His delicate hands held the exam paper, and though he had thought he did well, he noted the few incorrect marks in his answers (only three), seeing the red number at the top, an 80. The maximum score was 100, and he had hoped to have scored at least an 85 or perhaps a 90, but he wasn't too surprised either. After all, he had only had a few days to study.

He could glance over his shoulder at his neighbor, who had scored a 60. That at least comforted him a bit, knowing there wouldn't be many with a grade as high as his.

His gaze wandered around the room, passing over each of his classmates' heads until he found your hair... The perfect student.

Scaramouche huffed slightly, feeling annoyed, and kept glancing away, gritting his teeth a little. You were the stupid perfect student, the teacher's pet, who probably scored a 100 effortlessly... But his curiosity drew him back to you in the distance, watching as you held the exam paper in your hands for several seconds instead of putting it away and being done. You were reviewing your exam sheet with the textbook open, as if double-checking your own already perfect answers.

However, in the end, it seemed you had left your exam sheet, flipping it over on your desk and closing the book. Your head was slightly tilted, maybe you had made a mistake in one answer... he thought, but still, you were the 100 student, if you got a 95, you still had an excellent grade. He sighed again, looking away to focus on his own affairs.

As he heard the slight squeak of the chair backing up a bit, he looked up once more, and some strands of his indigo hair bothered him a bit. He quickly adjusted his hair and watched as you stood up from your seat, still with your back to him.

"Teacher, may I go to the bathroom?" It was a simple and typical question among students, but this time, it was you who asked. Obviously, the teacher gave you approval, and you quickly left the classroom, blending into the class's murmur. But he saw you. Scaramouche observed you.

He simply didn't pay it much mind, leaning back in his desk and stretching a bit over the table, lost in his thoughts and staring into space.

Now that he thought about it, he had never interacted with you. Well, he had never spoken to you.

Scaramouche remembered the first and last time you had spoken to him, even if it was just a small accident.

It was in the hallway while he was carrying some books to the office (the teacher had forced him). There were quite a few books, and he struggled a bit to carry them, so he couldn't see well as he walked. Accidentally, he bumped the books against your back.

Ugh, just remembering it seemed like a stupid cliché encounter from love stories, like when the girl bumps into the guy and it's love at first sight. He groaned at that thought, but he continued to recall how you had interacted with him.

After the collision, obviously the books fell to the ground, and you immediately apologized (when he was the one at fault), bending down to pick them up and arrange them in a row. He also crouched down, but didn't say anything, just furrowed his brow.

"Do you want me to help you carry this?" You had asked him kindly, your voice disgustingly soft for his taste, but he didn't say anything. He had already recognized you as the proclaimed perfect student, the teacher's pet, and... the number one in school.

He didn't like you, that was his point.

He wanted to refuse, but he also didn't want to carry those books again alone, so reluctantly he just carried half of them in silence, standing up and giving you a silent confirmation without meeting your gaze.

They walked together to the office, maintaining the uncomfortable silence between them. Scaramouche silently appreciated that you didn't unnecessarily try to fill that void. When they arrived, he immediately dropped off the books, giving a small greeting to the secretary to not seem rude, and then walked past you, distancing himself.

He didn't want anything to do with you, and he easily achieved that. He avoided you and kept his distance.

But oh, surprise! He and you shared three classes together: Biology, Arts, and Mathematics. Still, he didn't attempt to get closer or interact with you; it seemed unnecessary to him. He knew nothing about you, apart from being the "perfect" student. He thought you were arrogant, only showing kindness and politeness to maintain your facade of an exemplary student.

Scaramouche probably imagined that every time the teachers praised you or asked the students to follow your example, you were secretly laughing mockingly inside or looking down on others behind your soft and repulsive smile.

Scaramouche hated you.

Did he have reasons? No, but he found you distasteful for some reason.

The sound of the bell snapped him out of his thoughts immediately. Automatically, he began to pack his things into his backpack, and once finished, he stood up and made his way through the people exiting the classroom, navigating through the crowded hallway toward the exit.

It was break time, and he simply didn't want anything to do with the crowd of stupid people around him. So, he walked through the crowded halls, ignoring everyone. After all, he didn't really know anyone.

Scaramouche's feet carried him towards the stairs leading upstairs, until he reached the door that led to the rooftop. Normally, this area was blocked off, and it was forbidden to go out, but he really didn't care.

So, he easily opened the doors, removing the padlock (he had stolen the keys from the counselor's office). He closed the doors behind him so that no one would suspect that someone had been on the rooftop. He tucked the key into the pocket of his blue coat and took out his headphones and phone to listen to music, the only thing that relaxed him.

He walked across the rooftop, staying away from the edge to avoid being seen, but not too much in the center either. He headed towards the benches, which were strangely clean; probably the janitor also cleaned this place. He sat down, put on his headphones, and started playing music.

Gently, he lay back on his back, with his arms behind his head, starting to close his eyes, immersing himself in his own world of music, finding peace in melancholy.

Song by song, Scaramouche began to feel drowsy, sinking into a state of relaxation. However, when he opened his eyes, he found your face disgusting... again.

Why was God punishing him this day?

Automatically, he sat up, removing his headphones at the same time. He looked up and saw you. You had the impeccable school uniform, clean and strangely soft-looking hair, and your eyes were calm and gentle, in perfect harmony with your hair. You were too close for his liking, although technically you weren't invading his personal space, you were still there, practically in front of him, with your hands behind your back and a soft smile that he felt was fake.

"I thought this place was off-limits." You commented calmly, looking at him with those eyes that seemed as serene as water on the surface, yet so deep that they could easily swallow him whole.

He didn't want to answer how the heck he got into this closed-off place... so he simply averted his gaze with indifference, trying to show disinterest. To him, you were just an arrogant idiot, he told himself.

There were seconds of uncomfortable silence for Scaramouche as you continued to observe him with those eyes of yours. He felt uneasy under your gaze. So, he huffed annoyed, looking back at you and furrowing his brow.

"I thought the model student didn't break any rules in school." He declared, looking at you defiantly. He didn't care if you went and talked to a teacher, pointing him out for being on the rooftop, because you were there too. That place was supposed to be off-limits, but there you were, looking at him.

However, you simply smiled, as if it didn't affect you at all if he told a teacher that you had broken a rule. Although, on second thought, they wouldn't believe him, they would believe you because you were the perfect student, the role model. But if Scaramouche were to prove that you had broken a rule, it wouldn't matter because many teachers would probably overlook it due to your reputation as the responsible student with a bright future.

That's why maybe you were smiling so calmly. He clenched his teeth slightly, annoyed by your mere presence.

"I was just checking who was on the rooftop, as there have been incidents of students smoking here or having gatherings that are prohibited without a teacher's authorization." You responded softly, still smiling at him with that fake smile of yours, and you even sounded completely logical.

Your eyes, looking directly at him, made him feel small under your calm and deep gaze, like that of an animal observing its prey. But he wasn't going to let you take control.

"Do you see me smoking?" He responded, looking at you without hesitation, although the slight pressure in his chest increased with every moment you continued to look at him. Then, you gently closed your eyes and then opened them, looking in another direction, probably gazing at the blue sky.

"No, you're not smoking. I was just... 'investigating', I guess you could say." You said softly. Damn, maybe he understood now why they said you were so kind; it was your disgustingly soft tone of voice.

Although he also silently appreciated that you stopped looking at him. The tension in his muscles briefly relaxed, but his mind raced trying to decide how to act now. Respond? Ignore you? Say nothing? Leave? Any option seemed bad to him.

He decided to go for the first option, maybe then you would be satisfied with the conversation and leave him alone, ignoring him and forgetting about him.

"Are you going to tell a teacher, then?" He said, sounding uninterested because it was the truth. He really didn't care if a teacher scolded him for breaking a rule, as his mother wouldn't have time to go to the school and find out. But he continued the conversation, hoping you would leave him alone afterwards, and also so he would know whether or not he would be accused by you.

"Mhmm.." you hummed to yourself. He watched you step back a bit to lean gently against the whitish wall, crossing your arms, and again... looking at him. "Don't worry, Scaramouche, I won't." Damn, how did you know his name?

He remained still, watching your stupid smile that he disliked so much and how your lips pronounced his name. He didn't even know how you knew his name or why you had memorized it. Even though he hadn't told you, still... he looked at you, processing what you had just said, but at least you weren't going to rat him out. Was that a good thing? One could say yes.

"And this sudden kindness?" He immediately recovered, putting one leg up on the bench he was sitting on, bending it enough to lean his elbow on it and look you in the eyes, adopting a casual and unconcerned posture.

Or so he tried to appear, but his brain fried a bit when you called him by his name. He wondered why you had memorized his name, but he would go on with his intention. He wouldn't let himself be dragged down by you; you were just... ridiculous.

He watched in slow motion as you gently closed your eyes, fluttering your eyelashes, and then opened them again, tilting your head slightly... looking at him.

"I just noticed you weren't in class, the bell rang over 5 minutes ago." You commented casually, looking directly at him.

When the hell had the bell rung? He didn't even realize that time had passed too quickly for his liking... and he remembered that he also had classes with you today, and in math class, adding more weight to the situation. He would definitely be scolded, so he immediately stood up with a clear sound.

"Did the bell already ring? Why didn't you tell me, idiot?!" Scaramouche snapped at you, giving you a death glare as he checked the time on his phone. Even though he didn't give a damn about what the teachers thought, the math teacher punished him with too many assignments, which literally gave him a headache.

Scaramouche hurried towards the rooftop door, opening it. But a hand on his arm stopped him just as he was about to step onto the first step down.

"It's okay, Scaramouche. Let's go together, so the teacher won't scold you." You said softly. Now you were disgustingly close, he could feel the soft perfume surrounding you. It wasn't strong or intense, but soft... His brain went blank from your tone of voice and your strange comforting touch for him. After a few seconds, he reacted, stepping down onto the first step and turning around to look at you, pulling his arm away from your grip abruptly.

"Let go of me, idiot," Scaramouche muttered through gritted teeth, looking at you defiantly. But why did he feel like his cheeks were gently warming up? He lowered his gaze and turned, descending the stairs quickly without waiting for you. However, he could hear how you followed suit afterward.

After a few minutes, they were standing in front of the classroom door they had today, with the math teacher. Obviously, upon entering, the teacher was clearly not happy that Scaramouche had arrived late, but his expression immediately changed when he saw you with him.

He asked why you came back from the bathroom with Scaramouche, and in the end, you ended up lying for him, saying that when you returned to the classroom, you saw Scaramouche sleeping, so you woke him up and told him about the class time.

The teacher had no choice but to scold him for not falling asleep outside during class time and next time, threatening him with punishment if he did it again (basically, thanks to you, he wasn't punished this time). Scaramouche simply remained silent, not even thanking you.

He went to his seat, sighing irritably, trying to focus on the class and ignoring the fact that, in the distance, you seemed to have that stupid smile again. Maybe it was one of triumph for having helped him and now he owed you a favor... you were so annoying to him.

Thanks to your stupid pretty face and good reputation, you helped him this time and decided that you wouldn't tell anyone about the guy on the roof. What did you want from him? He doesn't know but he doesn't want to return the favor.

You were just two-faced, surely..

This was their problem, not yours, you're just a stupid busybody.

Bonus:

Scaramouche was there, sitting... trying to concentrate on Math class but really, he didn't understand at all...

"Where the hell did the teacher get that -26?.."

He simply groaned in annoyance in his seat, his gaze wandering over the others' heads, to where you were... and he thought about the roof.

Oh shit, he had forgotten to put the new lock on the doors.

At the next recess, Scaramouche immediately went through the crowd to the roof, to make up for his mistake, but when he went, the doors to the roof were locked... he was a little relieved, but he wondered if the janitor was the one who did it. And then he looked in his pocket for the key but he realized that only his cell phone and headphones were there... the key was not there.

At what point did he lose it?!

In reality, it was you who had stolen Scaramouche's key when you were with him, and when he was going down the stairs you made sure to lock it with the utmost care that it was silent because you knew that Scaramouche might react badly.

Scaramouche in the end deduced that the only culprit was you.

#scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x male reader #scaramouche x amab reader #scaramouche x gn reader #scaramouche #scaramouche genshin impact #genshin impact #scaramouche au modern #Scaramouche being a tsundere #male reader x scaramouche #amab!reader #male!reader

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samthestrangerthingsfan · 9 months ago

Text

Out of The Woods

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: A look back into our reader's past, and a run-in with one, too.

chapter warnings: slow burn,mentions of grief, parental loss, motherhood, swearing, alcohol(ism), child neglect, childhood trauma. Maggie fluff to fix it all <3

a/n: EEP EEP EEP, i know i know its a slooooow burn but we truly are just getting started. Enjoy!

chapter two: Tell Me A Lie || series masterlist

SEPTEMBER 17th, 1982

Freezer-burnt Egos sit three high on the olive green plate in front of you.

“Great.” Syrup hasn’t been purchased in weeks, so you slather each one with a smear of grape jelly. All served up with a side of tap water.

One bite in, and the sound of shattering glass startles the appetite out it you.

“Dad?!” You shout in a panic.

The sight that greets you on the living room is one that’s become familiar in the few months since your mom’s passing. Your father, slumped over in his beat up recliner, a shattered vodka bottle on the floor next to him.

“Shit…” you’re frantic as you rush to grab the broom and dustpan. It’s become a routine, clean up dad’s mess so that he doesn’t hurt himself when he wakes for his night shift at the Plant.

While it may be routine, it’s certainly not normal. No fourteen year old should be shopping for groceries, and doing laundry and writing checks to the electric company with a letter begging for them to give her a little more time with the lights on.

Every payday, you’d wait for Dad to pass out in his chair, and you’d take most of the cash from his wallet. It was just enough to get yourself food for the week and pay what you could. If he noticed the missing money, he never said anything, but you assumed he did notice that debt collectors had stopped calling so much.

“Bye, Dad.” You whispered. No response—then again, there never was.

The bag of glass was thrown into the trash on your walk to the garage. Hopping on your rusted out silver bike, you started the 2 mile ride to Hawkins High.

In truth, this has become the only slice of peace in your day. You could shut your damn brain off and just breathe. Not worry about the inevitable chaos that waited for you at home.

It was Friday, which means a meeting with the school counselor to see how you were doing since your mom died. June was…it was a time you’ve tried to block out. To suppress any memories or feeling from that awful day.

“Did you hear me, hon?” Ms. Kelly’s soft voice pulled you from your dissociation.

“What? Oh, mhm.”

She looked at you softly, tilting her head as a sign she absolutely did not believe you.

“Listen,” she pulls the file off her desk and turns it for you to see. “Your grades…they’re not at all reflective of your abilities. Your teachers think you’re brilliant, but the lack of effort on homework and tests is something of a concern.”

The pain of holding back tears began to prickle your throat. “I know, I’m—I’m trying. I’m studying as much as I can—“

“You’ve got such a bright future, just work a bit harder, hm?” Her smile was one of reassurance and confidence.

It’s not Mrs. Kelly’s fault. She didn’t know about what was happening at home, so she certainly didn’t know the impact of her advice.

“Work harder,” you whisper, venom coating your tongue. “Got it.”

The smile on your face is only there to keep the tears at bay. She excuses you to get back to next period, and you practically sprint from her office.

Where your legs take you, you’re not exactly sure. But the room is empty and dark and at this point you’ll take any refuge you can get.

So you sit and sob, heaving breaths and crying into your palm to muffle any sounds. How long you were there you have no idea, but it was long enough to hear the bell for end of the school day.

The door to the room opened, pouring in light from the hallway.

“Shit…you okay?”

His voice was so gentle and unsure. Backlit as the door closed, the shadow of his silhouette almost made him look like an angel.

Long shaggy hair, denim and chains and leather.

An angel--dressed like a devil.

You attempted to stand quickly, muttering a half-hearted apology, but you stumbled. Luckily for you, the stranger caught your elbow and waist.

“Whoa, hey just—here, sit for a sec, okay?” He guided you to the table across from where you’d sat, and ushered you towards one of the chairs.

“You’re not hurt are you?” His voice was so soft; a kindness you hadn’t heard in a long, long time.

You shook your head, “No, no. I’m fine.”

He laughed softly, “You sure about that?”

The tears in your eyes put holes in his chest.

“I’m Eddie,” he sat next to you on the table, “Who might you be?”

You whispered your name, and he smiled, then whispered it right back.

Eddie was gentle with you. He sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for your breathing to return to normal.

What you didn’t know was how he watched you. The way he recognized the pain in your eyes—a kind of sadness that only people who’ve experienced it can understand.

He knew a bad home life when he saw one, and It made him angry.

Angry that someone could look in your eyes and hurt you. That people could see how broken you were and take advantage of it. Worst of all? He was angry there was no one there to protect you.

As far as he was concerned, that changes today.

Eddie cleared his throat, and your eyes found him again. “Look at us,” he nudged your shoulder. “strangers a couple minutes ago, now we’re acquaintances. Who knows? Before we leave we might even be friends.”

A genuine and true laugh escaped you. It’d been so long since you’d heard your own laugh, the sound alone was foreign.

Though for Eddie, it was a sound that made his heart beat faster and face turn rosey, even under the gross fluorescent bulbs.

“I’d like to be your friend, I think.” You smile. Crinkles formed by his umber eyes as he mirrored your grin.

Your hand juts out, extended to him for the taking. “You’re not a serial killer, right?”

His warm grip finds yours, “Not to your knowledge.”

There’s a pain in your cheeks from smiling so hard. “That’s reassuring.”

Eddie jumped up, offering you his elbow. “Whaddya say, kid? Care to cause some chaos and debauchery with your new pal?”

It’d be easy to say no. To allow yourself to return to the shell you’ve built around yourself in order to protect your heart in a way no one else would.

But you didn’t hesitate. Linking arms with Eddie, his scent invaded you—nicotine and weed and…vanilla? Whatever the combination, you’re sure it was uniquely and perfectly him.

“Whatcha got in mind?”

Eddie could have said anything and you’re pretty sure you’d have agreed. “Oh, sweetheart. Just you wait.”

“Mama! Do we have any straw’bies?” Maggie asked from the kitchen.

The smell from the chemicals you’re cleaning the shower with make your head throb and the sweat on your brow itches you for the ten millionth time.

Deep breathes. Deep breathes.

“No, Mags. C’mon, get your shoes on. As soon as I’m done here we’re going to the store.” You throw the yellow gloves down into the sink, giving them a quick rinse.

The weekend has brought some seriously good progress. Friday you’d managed to get Maggie registered for school, and start cleaning out the house.

Boxes of old newspapers and tchotchkes your father had kept sat stagnant, collecting dust and taking up far too much space. None of it mattered to you, so you’d trashed it.

All of it.

Saturday was spent taking trips back and forth to the Goodwill, hoping and praying your little car would survive after all the driving she did. You’d bought a few cheap gallons of paint from Melvald’s, this house was your home now—Maggie’s home. It was time to wipe the slate clean and create a place the two of you could fill with love and laughter and memories

“Mom?” Maggie mumbled, mouth full of banana as she watches you slink into your jacket.

You grabbed your keys. “Yes, angel?”

“Can we get ice cream? Wouldn’t that be a fun way to ce-bre-late me going to big girl school tomorrow?”

I need to find a damn job.

You do some quick math, adding and subtracting based on what you had left in your savings, and what you’d set aside for bills.

You drop to your knees in front of your daughter, getting right down to her level to place a big kiss on her forehead. “Of course we can. Good idea, Maggie-moo.”

Her dimples were so deep from her big wide grin, you poked a finger in each of them.

“Moooom!” She laughed, swatting your hands away.

“Whaaaat? I just love you! Now c’mon, we gotta go get your asparagus.” You hold the door and Maggie jumps onto the porch.

“Ice cream!” She shouts, making a mad dash to the car.

You chuckle. “Right, right. Ice cream.”

The store is a mere 10 minutes drive from home. If you ask Maggie, she thinks 10 minutes is the perfect amount of time to throw an impromptu concert from the back seat—room for encore included.

The moment your hands grasp the shopping cart, Maggie’s arms are up. “Assuming the position, I see.” You smile proudly.

Scooping her up, you plop her right on her bottom into the cart. Maggie wiggled, gasping as the two of you strolled past the chip aisle. “Don’t forget! We have to get some snacks for school too!”

“Right,” you braked, and turned down it. “Let me guess, Doritos are the perfect school snack?”

Her eyes are wide, clearly overwhelmed at the selection the Pete’s Grocery has to offer. “Can we gets the cheese ones?”

“Sure thing, Sunshine.”

Shopping is entirely uneventful. It’s mainly you budgeting and planning on dinners for the week. Everything bought has to have more than one use or purpose, or you don’t get it. A few jars of pasta sauce, some spaghetti, a loaf of bread, peanut butter and jelly. Chicken, canned corn, strawberries and bananas and a few boxes of mac n cheese. No the shopping spree Maggie thinks it is, but you’ll make it work.

“Alright kiddo, now the piece de resistance…the ice cream section!” You use your best announcer voice as you scoop her from the cart, and let her roam free.

She squeals. “Mom! There’s so many kinds!”

You watch her, taking in how the littlest things in this life make her the happiest you’ve ever seen her. You’re so engrossed in your daughter, you almost don’t hear it. The familiar tone that had engrained itself in your memory, the sarcastic “Sure, Robin.” that had been a staple in his vocabulary since High School.

Any calm feeling you’d had vanished, stomach churning inside you. “Mags,” you called in a hushed tone. “Maggie! C’mon, baby, just choose—“

The voices were an aisle away, and moving closer to you.

Maggie was in her own world, running back and forth to different doors in careful deliberation.

You could feel yourself start to tremble, calling her a bit louder this time. “Maggie-moo, please hurry—“

“Ho-ly shit.”

Of course Robin was the first to say something. She stood with her mouth agape, Steve perplexed next to her. When he’d followed her gaze, the two bags of chips he was holding fell to the floor.

He called your name like he was unsure. Questioning if the ghost in front of him was really his friend from all those years ago.

“Mommy! I founded the one I want!” Maggie screeched as she barreled toward you, clutching a box of Bomb Pops to her chest.

Your two old friends’ eyes went straight to your daughter.

Robin’s eyes were so wide, you thought they’d burst from her skull. “Mom?” She questioned.

Steve followed her up with, “No freakin’ way.”

Maggie chucked the pops in the cart, and stood by your side, your arms instinctively reaching for her. She must have followed your eyes, because soon, she too was in the middle of the staring contest the three of you had started.

She was quiet for a moment, studying them, and it wasn’t that long before she started giggling the tiniest bit. She covered her mouth, making herself laugh with whatever joke was rolling around in her little mind.

Maggie walked up to Steve as she laughed, and smiled her big toothy grin at him. “Hiya, Cheeseball!” She spoke through her giggles.

Robin’s laugh caught her so off guard she started coughing, and Steve was all smiles. “Excuse me? Who told you about my nickname?”

Maggie laughed, “My Mommy! She said your name is Steeb and you’re a real cheese ball!”

“Steve, Mags. Steve.” You were laughing, thankful for your daughter for saving you and for easing the tense moment you were seconds away from having to address.

“Nope, uh-uh. He’s Steeb now, from this day until his last.” She looked at you, get big smile taking up her face. Her eyes were soft, softer than they’d been moments ago. She looked back to Maggie, “And who’re you?”

Pride filled Maggie’s voice, “My name is Maggie and I’m six years old, but I’ll be seven soon! Mommy telled me birthday is Star Wars day.”

Robin’s brows pinched together, “Star Wars Day?”

“May the 4th.” You and Steve answered in unison.

The hazel-eyed boy looked at you, offering you a small smile.

Robin went back to talking to Maggie, asking her about Star Wars and her why she chose Bomb Pops. Steve walked over to stand next to you.

He plopped the chips in the top of your cart, and without any hesitation, pulled you in for a hug.

“God, I missed you.” He whispered into your hair.

You could feel the emotion squeezing your throat, “I missed you so much, Stevie.”

He held you a few more seconds, using Robin as a distraction. “Is…is she—“

You gripped him tighter, “Not here. Please not here, Steve.”

Steve Harrington was many things, but dumb wasn’t one of them. A bit of an airhead, and clueless sometimes, but not dumb. He’d seen it immediately, the resemblance between the two of you, and the one of Maggie and his other friend.

Steve let you go, looking over your face. “Does, um…does he know?”

With shame in your heart, you shook your head. “No, and I need to keep it the way.”

The for now went unsaid.

Steve nodded. “You haven’t ran into him yet then, I take it.”

“No,” you whispered. “I don’t even know what would happen if we did. Can’t think about it, not right now.”

Maggie approached the two of you, yanking Robin by her arm. “You were right, Mom! I do like this Robin lady.”

When the laughter died down, it was then Robin asked the question looming over the four of you.

“So, and pardon-my-french Little Miss M, but what the hell are you doing back in Hawkins?”

And with that, the floodgates opened.

You told them about what you’d been up to the last seven years, and what brought you back. Granted, you kept everything very Maggie-friendly—meaning most of your words were very PG friendly.

It was a weird feeling, admitting to all of the half-truths you told yourself, and how you had to push them out of your life. You wanted to tell them anything but the truth. To spare their feelings and the thought that you too could just as easily abandon the people who, at one point, were some of the most important people in your life.

"That's...that's heavy shit." Steve breathed.

You nodded, fully aware of the hanger-ticking-timebomb Maggie was becoming.

"We'll, uh...we'll catch up soon. Gotta get the grouch dinner."

"I am not a grouch." Maggie crossed her arms, and turned away.

"Of course you're not! You're just a girl who knows what she want." Robin high fived Maggie, and your heart melted.

You hugged them both one more time before loading Mags back in the cart, "Stop by anytime," You said with a smile. "You know where I live."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #ootw

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